


Boom Boom

by EllieWan



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Coping Mechanisms, Counter-terrorism, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Light Angst, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, Mythomania, Nighthaven, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Psychological, Self-Destruction, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27807820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieWan/pseuds/EllieWan
Summary: When you mix fuel, Texan dynamite and Norwegian sass powder in just the right way, it burns at 2000 degrees Celsius. Hot enough to cut through nearly any mental barrier known to man. Throw some love into the mix, and you've got one hell of a combination.(Or what happens when a social butterfly filled with gloomy thoughts, and a sassy joker in constant need of approval become friends, or something more.)
Relationships: Håvard "Ace" Haugland/Jordan "Thermite" Trace, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 134
Kudos: 94





	1. Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read somewhere that a story or a novel is like a thesis in which you have x pages to prove that this story and those characters are real. This is my thesis on how Ace and Thermite can be a healthy and cute ship, and I hope you will like it.  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

> **Squad Alpha** \- Heavy CQB Hostage & Bomb Situation:  
>  Montagne, Twitch, IQ, Thermite, Ace
> 
> **Squad Bravo** \- Heavy Mixt-Area Hostage & Bomb Situation:  
>  Zofia, Lion, Hibana, Blitz, Kali
> 
> **Squad Charlie** \- Sneaky Hostage & Bomb Situation:  
>  Thatcher, Jackal, Dokkaebi, Nøkk, Maverick

"Theoretically speaking, I have nothing to say," Ash admitted, "but I have some doubts about certain... let’s say _social_ synergies?”

“Like which ones?" Harry asked.

“First of all, Nighthaven operators. I don't doubt their effectiveness, far from it, but I think that we haven't been working with them for long enough. At least Kali isn't with Thatcher, but I don't know how the cooperation is going to work with Zofia, who tends to be quite old school.”

“Well, regarding that, I’m hopeful," he said. “Thanks to Ela, Zofia is broadening her horizons a bit and I think she will appreciate Kali's professional efficiency.”

“Hm, maybe you're right, let's hope so. But in Squad Charlie, you put Thatcher and Dokkaebi. Do you really think they're done with their discords?”

“Since the Tournament of Champions, they've been doing much better and they're both very efficient. They've achieved one of the highest synergistic scores in the Program.”

“That's true. And their individual effectiveness on hostage situations is well proven... Let’s hope they stay on that good trend, then.“

“Any other doubts?”

“Yes, I do. _Ace_. I think he's still too fresh to join Squad Alpha. And I doubt his behavior will be... _tolerated_ by many.”

“Who specifically? I think on the contrary that the soft and calm natures of Montagne and Twitch would be perfect to manage him, and as for Thermite, I think his frankness and temperament will work very well with Ace. Let’s just hope they don't become _partners in crime_ , haha! For IQ indeed, it could be more complicated, but Ace has already proven that he could adapt his speech according to the situation and the people he works with. Let's hope that in this case, it turns out as an asset rather than a flaw.”

“Yeah... hm... I still have my doubts but I understand the logic... maybe you're right. I'm not much of a psychologist after all.”

“And I'm not very much of a tactician. That's why your input is important, Eliza. So, what’s your final word?”

Ash pursed her lips, arms folded, and thought for a while. She then straightened her head:

“Fine by me. Let's try this configuration.”

* * *

"Jordan, we're together!” cried Ace as if he had just learned the school’s new seating plan.

He took Thermite in his arms and lifted him off the ground.

“Y-Yeah. So, I heard." Jordan choked.

“You could at least smile!”

Ace put Thermite down. Since his arrival at Rainbow, Ace had developed a passion for teasing Jordan. Well, Jordan and half of the other operators, but Jordan was getting a special treatment based on flirting and nicknaming. Jordan didn’t take it seriously and thought it was just funny; he too liked to tease and add a little freshness and humor to the base. But Ace was sometimes... clingy.

“I’m just looking forward to starting the training," Jordan said. “It's been a while since I've been on a team with Monika.”

“How about me? Aren't you looking forward to training with me?”

“You're not the center of my life, Ace.”

“Oooh Jordan! You're breaking my heart.”

“You should get used to it, now that we're on the same team.”

Ace pouted and Jordan gave him a hard slap in the back:

“Don't worry, _diva boy_. I'll try not to be too hard on you. Just remember to stay away from my Texan dynamite.”

“Excuse me!” Monika’s voice echoed a little further away “But you can't expect me to accept this without saying anything!"

“You're not dismantling his gadget, Monika" Kali replied uncompromisingly.

“He's in my squad, I need to know how it works, or at least check the blueprints!”

“His gadget is the property of Nighthaven, not Rainbow or the UN. You don't get to stick your pretty nail-polished fingers in it.”

“Why, do you have something to hide?!”

“Have you never heard of professional confidentiality?”

“But we're not a private company, for God's sake, Jaimini! We're an anti-terrorist organization and-!”

“I don't see any contradiction.“

Monika's lips trembled with anger, and she came dangerously close to Jaimini, who crossed her arms with a defiant look on her face. Monika raised her index finger with authority:

“ _One_ problem. If there's a single problem with one of your gadgets during a training session or an operation, you’ll have to deal with me.”

Jaimini unfolded her arms and moved closer to Monika, boasting her chest, and looking her straight in the eyes:

“There won't be any problem, because we're not _amateurs_.”

And for a woman like Monika, who had studied at MIT, who was one of the greatest engineers in military sciences in the world and who couldn't bear to be stood up to, it was excruciating. She tensed up and slowly repeated:

“The _slightest_ problem. The _slightest_ bolt that jumps out. The _slightest_ circuit failure...”

Jaimini just offered her a spiteful smirk, and Monika glared back one last time before leaving in the opposite direction with a heavy step. Jaimini watched her leave with an amused look, then walked towards Ace and Thermite, who had witnessed the scene. She quickly looked at Jordan, as if he was bothering, then stood in front of Håvard:

“If they think I'm going to give them blueprints just like that" she scoffed.

“Don't worry, boss. They'll get bored from asking.“

“Don't tell them about your gadget, eh?”

Ace mimed a zipper over his mouth.

“Cross my heart. I'm on your side, don't forget.”

She gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Jordan, whom Kali continued to ignore, sighed and shook his head, frankly tired from the attitude of the Nighthaven agents, and left.

"Jordan, wait!" Ace called him.

But Jordan closed the door behind him, and the message was clear enough. Heheaded for the gym, stopping first in the locker room to get his sport clothes. There he ran into Mike, who had come to get his change of clothes before his shower and was still sweating from his training.

"Jordan!” he greeted him.

“Hey Mike. How's it going?”

“I'm good, I'm good, but James beat my arse again. I can't wait for Adriano to come back from his operation and go back to training with him. I feel like a chew toy for a hyperactive dog left alone in an apartment.”

Jordan chuckled and took off his shirt to put on his sports top.

“Have you seen the new assignments?” he asked.

“Yeah," Mike sighed. “I'm looking forward to the briefing meeting. I can see the logic of their choices, they had already consulted me, but I have a feeling it's not going to be a walk in the park.”

“You thinking about Grace?”

“Oh no, Grace is great. It’s been way better since the Program started and she’s a valuable asset. Where I think it's going to be complicated is with that mercenary and her sidekick. At least she's not in a leadership role, but is she going to live it well? with that ego she has, who knows. And as for the other idiot... “

Sensing that Mike was referring to Ace, Jordan tried to relativize:

“He's not a bad guy. He’s just… yeah.”

“Sure, but he doesn't take anything seriously. He's always taking pictures of himself and posting them on the internet like he's at summer camp. At least his results look acceptable, but I'm sorry in advance for what I'm going to say: it's obvious that the Norwegians are just trained to protect the Russian border in case the _big bad Cossacks_ want to come and steal their oil. You know that the Danes even joked about them in Afghanistan? _"Norwegians? Yeah, in the rear with the gear."_ See, if even the Danes make fun of them...”

“Wow, that's getting a little racist for me!" Jordan chuckled.

“Arr come on, it's just a joke... but anyway, just to say that I’m glad I'm with neither of them. And you tell me though, if they're giving you too much trouble, okay?”

Jordan then took off his shoes and sighed:

“Honestly, it should be fine as long as Kali and Monika aren't in the same room, and as for Ace... yeah it should be fine.”

_Two days later._

“Ace, your cell phone!" cried a wearied Monika.

Håvard looked up like a teenager at a family dinner. Squad Alpha was seated in the briefing room, ready for its first training in the scenario simulator. Gilles, squad leader, had lain on the table the layout of the place and was explaining how they would attack the target, but Monika’s anger burst out, seeing Ace tapping on his phone.

“Relax, _mom_.” The Norwegian cheekily replied.

“Did you at least hear what Gilles said?!” she cried.

“Yes, Twitch drones the blue room and disables the upstairs security camera, while Gilles and I progress up the stairs, while you and Jordan breach through the southeast side of the façade.”

Monika’s face decomposed and Jordan couldn't hold back a giggle. She looked daggers at him.

“What? He repeated it well!" Jordan replied.

Emmanuelle sighed and put her hands on Monika and Jordan's shoulders:

“Calm down, guys," she said in a soft voice. “Håvard, can you put your phone away while we finish the briefing, please?”

“Sure.” He gently obeyed.

Ace closed his apps, then put his phone in his pocket. Monika stared at him and Ace replied with a grimace:

“See, _she_ asked politely.”

Jordan pinched his lips to hold himself back from laughing again, but the trembling from his shoulders betrayed him, and Monika slapped his arm.

“Ooooh come on Monika!" Jordan laughed.

“Keep going Gilles." she gnashed between her teeth. “Please.”

Gilles sighed, but remained professional, and continued his briefing. When everyone had a clear idea of what they had to do, they left for the arsenal, where Sam and Gilles had already prepared their loadouts for the simulation. Ace was quite surprised not to find his usual Kalashnikov, but an M1014, a shotgun that he knew but which wasn’t his best friend. He grabbed the rifle and looked at it dubiously:

“It’s not going to eat you," Jordan joked.

Ace turned to him. Jordan was already equipped, wrapping his hands.

“The gun," Jordan repeated. “It's not going to eat you.”

“I know. I know that shotgun.”

“Oh? Sorry, you just looked like... I must have misinterpreted.”

“I just haven't trained with it in a while, but I was very good at it back then. Jaimini must have mentioned it in my file, that's why.”

Jordan chuckled:

“Yeah that’s probably the reason why. No doubts.”

Ace looked at Jordan, whose gaze was again lowered on his burnt hands. Ace smirked, and went to crouch in front of him.

“I could teach you, you know," Ace suggested in a flirtatious voice.

“Teach me what?”

“How to use this shotgun.”

“Are you serious?" Jordan laughed. “You? Teach me how to use an M1014?”

Ace crouched closer so that their faces weren't that far apart:

“That or teach you a lot of other things. All you have to do is ask.”

“Are you flirting with me right now?”

“Depends, does it work?”

Jordan laughed some more and pushed Ace, who fell on his buttocks, cheeks rosy. Jordan stood up, and adjusting the strap of his helmet, replied:

“Come on, let’s focus on the scenario. We don't want Bravo to get a higher score.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) I hope you liked it.  
> I initially wanted to start publishing from today with a quick updating rhythm, but Ubi released that animated cinematic and… erf I need to rework many parts and chapters to match it. But I guess it’s going to be better, somehow? I dunno :’)
> 
> Anyway, thank you again for reading; lemme know what you thought <3


	2. Comfort zone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Håvard faces the unexpected reality of not being good at something.  
> And Harry tries to unlock Jordan's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more context setting in this chapter and not much action 😊  
> Hope you’ll enjoy it, though + sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing  
> (I really struggled with the translation for this one)

"... so overall it was a good session, even if you lost some time there," Sam concluded. "Ash, Harry and I gathered information in the files in front of you. It concerns your accuracy, your responsiveness, the quality of your communication, of your positioning, and we adapted some of your schedules to work on your weak points. Take a good look at it and don't hesitate if you have any question. Off you go.”

Sister squads Alpha and Bravo stood up and left the room. Jordan went through his file without further ado, looking for his statistics and axes of improvement. He stopped in the hallway and roughly read the main bullet points: _Communicate more_. _Be less hasty_. He didn't bother to read the detail, which he saved for later, and sighed. He already knew what it meant. In the list of his trainings, there was mostly a series of checkups: medical and especially ear checks for his proximity to explosives, and psychological interviews because Harry didn't want to let go of him since Aurelia had given him carte blanche when she left...

He put the paper back in the file, and someone tapped him gently on the shoulder. It was Yumiko:

"Ah Yumi!” he greeted

“Congratulations for the result, you guys were faster than us!”

“Maybe, but you got to the floor faster," he replied. “And you all were very precise in your actions.“

“Yes, I was positively surprised by the synergy between Lion and Kali, and how she shot the targets through the soft walls thanks to his drone.”

“Yeah, I saw that behind the screens. You guys had good communication.”

“Honestly, Zofia is a great squad leader. That helps. Anyway, how about we stretch together?”

“Good idea, lemme just put the file in my locker.”

“Did you already take a look at it?”

“Just a peep, I'll read more in detail later.”

“I'm sure there's a line about your recklessness.”

“My _recklessness_?” Jordan repeated, frowning.

“You rushed very quickly after the explosion of your charge. I even thought you were going to take the blast of it; it happened in such a short time. You should be more careful.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I may have been a little hasty.”

“Just be safe, Jordan. We don’t want your pretty face to get the same treatment as your hands.”

He snorted but stopped himself from replying anything when Kali walked past them, joining Monika who was walking a quick step ahead of them.

"Not bad, _dollhead_.” Kali began “I didn't know you were so effective with an AUG, you must have one of the highest accuracy scores on your team.”

“I could have returned the compliment.” Monika mocked.

“You _could_? I didn't miss a single target.” Kali objected with a frown.

“And yet I think even Twitch's drone is more reliable than you.”

Kali stopped in disbelief, and surprisingly Monika also stopped to stare at her. Jordan and Yumi passed them but remained silent to listen to their conversation:

“What?" Monika asked bluntly.

“I was paying you a compliment, _dollhead_ " Kali remarked.

“Twitch's drone is one of the most effective inventions developed here. So, I compared you to something remarkable.” Monika scoffed.

“You need to work on your social skills.”

And the two women parted away, the atmosphere cold and tense. Yumi raised her eyebrows.

“It's a good thing they're not on the same team.” She sighed.

“You really need to convince Monika to do meditation stuff," Jordan joked.

“As long as there's no Olympic medal to win, I’m pretty sure she won’t be interested” she laughed.

_A few days later._

Håvard was waiting in front of the shooting range where someone was to train him on the M1014, since apparently... his shotgun performance had been quite below his usual scores. And now that he was officially affiliated with a CQB team instead of paratroopers or groups of rescuers, it was becoming critical that he be as comfortable with a shotgun as he was with a middle-range rifle; partially because the shotgun could allow him to soft-breach doors faster in case of emergencies.

While waiting for his trainer, he was taking a series of selfies, running his hands through his blond hair, in which he had put a tiny bit of gel to give it more volume. He tried several angles, a burst of profiles, top down views, and so on. He then began to sort through the 30 photos until he found the right one. He opted for the one where he raised an eyebrow, since it gave off a "nice and badass" aura, and put an instagram filter to hide his acne scars. He then typed a message to go with it: _How are you, loves? For me, it's back to some intensified firearm training! #Warrior #ReadyOrNot #HereICome._

Then, he heard some footsteps.

"So, I was told that someone needed a little tutoring in M1014?" teased a familiar voice.

“Jo... Jordan?” Håvard mumbled with surprise, almost dropping his phone. “You're the… you’re here for… ?”

“ _Oooh but you know Jordan, I could teach you, you know_ ” Jordan mimicked him with a fake Norwegian accent.

“I don't talk like that.” Ace pouted.

Jordan laughed and patted Håvard on the back:

“Come on, go grab your noise-cancelling earmuffs and protections, we’ll go to the back of the shooting range. I'll grab you a shotgun.”

“Wait... is there sugar on your lips?” Ace asked.

Jordan frowned and touched his lips, but when he looked at his fingers, there was nothing:

“No, why?”

“Because they are really sweet.”

“Oh, come on! Go put on your protections, you brat!”

Håvard laughed and went to grab his stuff. He then waited for Jordan in the back of the range, as he had told him, and Jordan arrived a few minutes later, equipped with noise-cancelling earmuffs, protection glasses, and an M1014 with him, against his chest and pointed at the ground. He also had an ammunition belt on his shoulder and handed it to Håvard:

"There you go. Tighten it good, we'll test how fast you can reload.“

Håvard accepted the belt, but held Jordan’s grey gaze:

“Can you help me with the belt?" Håvard teased him with a wink. "I mean, to put it on...?" 

“Man, if I do," Jordan began, "you'll go cry to Kali, complaining how badly I manhandled you.”

“Hm... I'd like to see that.” Håvard teased some more.

Jordan snorted, rolling his eyes:

“Put your belt on, we don't have all day.”

And Håvard obeyed with a cheeky grin. Jordan then handed him his M1014 and waved him into place.

“So first, what do you know about an M1014?” he professionally asked.

“Hm the basics. 7 bullets in the magazine. Semi-automatic. Needs to be pumped manually for some bullets, especially non-lethal ones. Thanks to its gas system, needs very little maintenance, so very practical in desert or dusty areas.”

“Not bad.” Jordan frankly replied. “We’ll see the rest as you practice. First, shoot on these three targets. You can empty the magazine.”

Jordan repositioned his earmuffs over his ears, took out his stopwatch and stepped away from Håvard, who got into position, anchoring his feet in the ground and sticking the stock to his shoulder, aligning the sights neatly. Jordan motioned for him to start and Håvard did so. He fired twice at the first target, then twice at the second and three times at the last one. Jordan stopped the clock. Håvard stepped aside, lowering the rifle and his earmuffs:

“Hm... I think I see what Sam meant," Jordan whispered.

“What?" Håvard exclaimed. “It wasn't so bad, was it?”

“Depends, how do you define bad?”

Håvard got really upset. It couldn't have been _that_ bad. He may not have had the longest training on this weapon, but he still managed. He really didn't like feeling humiliated, and being told he was “bad” at something. Like… it couldn’t have been that bad. For real.

“Relax, _diva boy_. I've seen much worse.” Jordan comforted him with a pat to the back. “Now, can you show me how you reload as fast as you can?”

“Standing?”

“Yeah, standing in shooting position for now. And as fast as you can.”

So, Ace did as he was told. Raising the shotgun to its original firing position, he grabbed four cartridges at once with his long fingers and inserted them one by one. He then retrieved the others until his gun was fully loaded, and returned to his shooting position. Jordan turned off his stopwatch again.

“Okay, so we have work to do here too.”

Håvard growled. He was about to mouth some complaint but stopped himself from voicing it. _Don’t act like a kid. Don’t give him a bad impression. Pretend you understand what he means, and that you are looking forward to hearing feedback on your performance and how willing you are to become better at it. Be a good and attentive soldier, the perfect student_ :

“Oh hum,” Håvard said. “Yeah, that wasn’t very clean, sorry. I should train more on my reloading, and I could definitely use a piece of advice.”

Jordan lifted an eyebrow, as if surprised by Håvard’s answer.

“Yeaaah…” the American dubiously replied. “Anyway, get back in position.”

Håvard nodded. Jordan then put his hand in the middle of his back again and Håvard almost relaxed to the warm contact of Jordan's palm in the hollow of his back:

“Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it.“

Jordan stood behind Håvard and suddenly moved closer, almost sticking his body to his. Håvard felt Jordan's knee pressing against the back of his, forcing him to bend down a little:

“There you go. Now, I want you to shoot your whole magazine at one target as quickly as possible.”

The "evaluation" phase lasted three long and painful minute for Håvard, who felt humiliated and frustrated to be so obviously newbie to the M1014. Jordan gave him new instructions: reload with your support hand, reload with your dominant hand, reload with only one hand, shoot three times and reload a bullet in emergency.

They only stopped when Håvard ran out of bullets. Jordan went to get some more and meanwhile Håvard collapsed on the bench, his gun unloaded next to him. He was so frustrated. To show up like that, so bad and weak. And in front of Jordan... Not that Jordan was the person to absolutely impress, it was just a game and he wasn't really in love or anything. But damn, he must have looked like a total rookie, and he felt so... _average_.

For as long as he could recall, he would always have a head start on most things; he would be surprisingly good, better than the others, than the _average_ , at any new challenge, lesson, new weapon. But it seemed that when you were with the best of the best, here at Rainbow, even that small head start was totally wiped off by the competition. And he hated it. To feel this _average_ , not outstanding from the mass. Now that he had made it to the Alpha Squad, he didn’t want to be put aside like those kids people never wanted to take in their football teams when he was in school. Those kids who were doomed to the bench. Unnoticed and unloved.

He sighed, massaging his neck, and was surprised when Jordan sat down next to him; he hadn't heard him coming. Håvard put his earmuffs away and Jordan handed him a bottle of water, which he gladly accepted. He took a few sips and closed the cap:

“You know, that's normal, right?" Jordan said.

“What's normal?”

“That you're not the best with an M1014.”

“I don't know, I just thought that... I don't know what I thought.” Håvard reluctantly admitted before getting back in his role “But I’m willing to train harder, I know I have a lot of work but I’ll do it.”

Jordan didn’t seem to hear his last sentence - or perhaps he just ignored it? - because he continued:

“Man, if you were better than me with an M1014, I would have seriously questioned myself. That weapon was my best friend in Iraq, and it followed me to the FBI. And then again at Rainbow. I've spent more time with that shotgun in my hands than anyone else here. Only Sam could possibly compete with me.”

Håvard silently smiled, and couldn’t help but ask:

“So, you’ve fought in Iraq?”

“Yup. Twice. At the beginning of the war.”

“You must have been quite young?”

“Yeah, I joined the Corps right after high school. It’s a family thing.”

“Oh…”

“So that’s why I know this shotgun better than most: it’s been in the marines since 1999 and we were the first to use it before any special forces. So, don't worry, you’re not that bad and I’ll help you get better. Besides, that's what we're here for, right?”

Jordan winked at him, and Håvard chuckled.

“Why are you being so nice? Most of your colleagues hate my guts.”

“Not all of them, and for those who give you a hard time, just… don't fret too much, they'll relax eventually. Now, come on, let's get back to it.”

Jordan handed him the ammunition and straightened up to go get his stopwatch.  
Håvard smiled slightly as he followed him with his eyes: _Jordan hadn't really answered his question._

Later that afternoon, Jordan knocked on the door of Harry's office, who quickly answered with a _"Come in!”_. Jordan pressed the handle and entered the large room. Harry was sitting at his desk and stood up when he saw him:

“Ah Jordan, thank you for coming," he cheered.

“Not like I had a choice!" Jordan joked. “It's on my schedule, so technically I'm being paid to be there.”

Harry smiled and motioned for him to sit on one of the sofas in the small rest area, then disappeared into the tiny kitchenette next door:

"As usual, a large black coffee?” he asked.

“Yup. Thanks, Harry.”

Jordan heard the coffee machine humming against the wall. He took the opportunity to readjust one of the strips on his left hand that had come loose. But he quickly looked away before Harry saw him; because he knew that even the slightest micro expression couldn’t escape the new Six, and Jordan knew he had the habit of fidgeting or staring at his burnt hands when he was thinking about _things_... Timur had told him that Harry had noticed he would scratch his scarred eye when he was stressed, and Jordan had _gladly_ taken the heads-up.

Harry arrived with a cup of tea and the coffee which he put in front of Jordan, who thanked him. He then retrieved his notebook, his pen hidden in the spiral binding, and came to sit on the couch across Jordan; the small coffee table separating them.

“So, how are you doing, Jordan?" he asked without further ado.

It was always the most embarrassing question. It was both a simple and complex. Jordan just answered with his usual nonchalance:

“Everything’s fine. Just the daily grind; all work and no play makes Jordan a happy boy haha” Jordan joked to relax the atmosphere. “Joking aside, nothing to report. Just an average week.”

“So, you're happy with the situation? The ‘daily grind’, I mean?”

“Yeah, I'm not complaining. We have everything to train properly. We've set up the Alpha squad and it's going well so far. So, yeah, I’m good.”

“Can you tell me more about it? About your new squad? How do you feel about it?”

“So far, so good. As you know, I've been working with Monika, Emmanuelle and Gilles for a few years now, so we understand each other pretty well. As for Ace, I was a little afraid he would fool around but it seems to be going well for the moment. He does what he's told, he obeys Gilles' orders well and he hits his targets, and his gadget is _definitely_ much safer for the hostages and adapted to rescues, so we complete each other well. So yeah, for the moment it's going ok.”

“You said ‘for the moment’ twice.”

“I did? Um... Guess you can never be too sure? Haha”

Harry squinted and wrote something down in his notebook, and it was honestly one of the worst things in the world. Jordan’s grin instantly vanished from his face and he quickly asked:

“What did you write?"

“That you repeated ‘for the moment’ twice.”

Jordan frowned and stammered before rephrasing:

“It-It's normal, it's just... you can never be too sure, right? Something might happen tomorrow and... we might have a fight. Someone may get hurt, injured. We could… lose someone, I don't know. So, yeah, right now everything's fine, but that could change. I mean, normal. It’s just our work, nothing extraordinary.”

Harry quietly nodded his head, a sign that he understood, and Jordan almost relaxed. He grabbed his coffee mug and took two large sips to let his mind take a breath.

“You still have a lot of time off," Harry said. “You know you have to legally take some before the end of the year.”

“Yeah, I know, but... Yeah, I know.”

“But?”

“I'll try to take some.”

Jordan was trying to cloud the issue, but Harry was not one to be bamboozled that easily. He leant slightly forward, and readjusted his glasses on his nose, pushing on the bridge between his lenses:

“Jordan?”

“It's just that I don't really know what to do outside of the base," Jordan reluctantly admitted, looking at his hands.

“You could take the opportunity to see some friends. Family?”

Jordan tensed up:

“I don't really feel like it.”

“You don't feel like spending a few days in Texas?”

“No.“

Harry sadly smiled, his face full of compassion. He put his notebook on the couch and looked for Jordan's eyes:

“You know that _this_ is not your whole life, don't you?”

“Yes, I do. “

“And you know you still have family outside?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Jordan, what I’m trying to say is... it's been two years.”

Jordan fidgeted with his hand strips, and didn't say anything back. He didn't like it when Harry was doing that. Not Harry, not Emma, not Jack, not Yumi... He closed his mouth and stared at his coffee, shutting up completely like he did during his interrogation resistance trainings, and he waited. Motionless and mute. He waited a long time, totally locked, barely breathing.

After many long minutes, Harry realized that he could not go any further today. He sighed:

“I’m sorry, Jordan.”

“It's your job. That's okay.”

“In several weeks, it will be All Souls’ Day. I was thinking this might be a good occasion to take some time off, to go back to Texas, maybe?”

Jordan shrugged his shoulders, and Harry gently insisted:

“I don't want to force your hand, Jordan. All I can tell you is that... All Souls’ Day is a day made for _that_. If you're struggling to find the excuse, if you feel like you have to apologize for taking time to think of your lost ones, and to grieve... that's what this day is meant for. To give people a time and an opportunity for that. And everyone needs it.“

“I’ll think about it.”

“And should you need to talk about it, I'll always be here. Not only me, but also Yumiko. Jack. Eliza. Emmanuelle. They will not see it as a chore, but rather as a gift from you, a mark of trust, and they will gladly take the opportunity to help you. They care about you.”

“I’ll think about it.” Jordan quietly repeated, still avoiding Harry’s eyes.

Harry sighed and picked up his notebook.

“Well, let's change the subject. What do you think of the latest recruits? You accompanied them on a bomb scenario this week, how did it go, according to you?”

And they changed the subject, once again putting aside the painful fire that has been consuming Jordan’s heart for almost two years, his heart which unlike his hands, could not heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading 😊 I hope you liked it! 
> 
> I know in Thermite's biography it’s written that he lost his sister recently ("recent loss") and his mother a few years prior, but I decided to bend time a bit for this story, so Jordan lost his sister roughly two years ago and his mother five years ago, shortly after he arrived at Rainbow. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks a lot for reading :’) Lemme know, what you thought.  
> (+ was the chapter length ok? isn't it too long/dense?)


	3. In your head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace gets a head booboo when training.  
> Which unexpectedly leads to Thermite's learning more about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing :)

_3 weeks later._

“Exothermic charge in position," Jordan announced before activating his gadget. “Ready to blow this!”

“Jordan, step back," Gilles ordered him almost instantly. “You're too close.”

Jordan obeyed and went to position himself a little further away, while everyone regained their position; ready for the intensive assault that awaited them. But when the charge detonated, the blast was so intense that Håvard, badly positioned behind Gilles, was propelled backwards, the wooden railing breaking under his weight, and he fell into the hall below. But Gilles rushed into the breach with Jordan while Emmanuelle and Monika entered through the window, and within seconds the hostage was secured, and the scenario over.

Gilles then quickly got out of the room and trotted to the stairs:

“Ace, you’re okay?" he asked over the broken railing.

He folded back his shield, and Jordan and Emmanuelle quickly ran down the stairs to see Håvard who was sitting where he had landed, and taken off his helmet and balaclava. Jordan put his weapon away and crouched down beside him:

"Ace? Buddy, you're alright?"

Ace didn't respond and massaged his blond hair. Emmanuelle then asked again after a few seconds:

"Ace? Ace can you hear us?"

Ace blinked several times, his pupils dilated, and stammered:

“Wow, I think... I think... I just got run over by a train.”

“Are you in pain?" Emmanuelle asked.

“No, no I don't think so, I'm just... what exactly happened to me?”

Jordan frowned when he noticed that Håvard's Norwegian accent was much more pronounced than usual, as if his tongue was made of sandpaper. Håvard pushed on his hands to stand up, but his legs were shaky, and Jordan helped him stabilize:

"Easy there. Are you dizzy?”

“Yeah, my head is spinning. But I don't get it... what happened? “

“You were propelled by the blast from the explosion of... my gadget.“

“But the scenario has begun?”

Jordan and Emmanuelle exchanged meaningful glances, and Jordan felt a twinge of sadness.

_Concussion._

" _Ooook l’ami_ , you're going to come with us, and we're going to see Doc, okay?" Emmanuelle cheerfully said.

Ace mumbled a few things, half in English and half in Norwegian, but was dragged from the scenario by Jordan and Emma. Sam quickly met them as they exited the building:

“Is everything okay?" he asked.

“He took the blast of my charge and fell badly in the hall, we think he has a concussion. We're taking him to Doc's," Jordan explained in a less assertive voice than he would have liked.

“Okay, no one else was hurt?”

“N-No, just him.”

“Okay, fine, go see Doc. We'll see the rest at the debriefing," Sam concluded, letting them pass.

“Did you drug me?" Håvard stammered on the way.

“No, you just took a blow to the head," Twitch explained.

There was an awkward silence, but Håvard resumed:

“But you drugged me? It was a drug resistance thing?”

“No, you just have a concussion, Ace," replied Jordan. “You used to be a combat medic, so you know what a concussion is, right?”

Another heavy silence. Jordan was mentally cursing himself. He should never have detonated his charge so quickly, he should have waited until Ace was safely positioned... Had the Norwegian been any closer, his charge, even the training version, could have severely injured him and-

Håvard suddenly became agitated and opened his eyes:

“Do I have a concussion? Oh God no, that means Doc will take my phone.”

Jordan and Emmanuelle exchanged an amused look and pushed the door of the infirmary. Doc was already in the hallway, papers in hand, and raised an eyebrow:

“Scenario gone wrong?” he asked.

“Ace took the blast from my charge; he took a nasty blow to the head in his fall despite his helmet.”

“Ok put him on the bed in room 3, I'll put that down and I'll be right there," answered Doc, pointing to his paperwork.

Emmanuelle and Jordan put Håvard on the bed, and instinctively, he tilted back to lie down.

“No, no, no, don't fall asleep right now," Jordan scolded him. “Doc needs to see you first.”

“But he's going to take my phone. I don't want to see him.”

“Just… stay put, and maybe he won't take it from you, okay?”

Håvard didn't seem convinced and his dilated pupils landed on Jordan, looking for additional support. Doc arrived quickly afterwards.

“So Mr. _Haugland_. Let's have a closer look.”

“No, no, you’re not taking my phone away!” exclaimed Håvard.

He wanted to fight Doc off, but Jordan and Emmanuelle held him against the mattress and mumbled soothing words, until he was calm again.

“Are you in any pain, Hå-Hå... Ace?”

“Am I in pain?”

“Yes, are you hurting somewhere?”

“I... no. No, my head is spinning. And I... I feel like I'm _high as hell_.”

Doc's eyebrows furrowed and he started looking at Håvard's hair for any bleeding or abnormal bumps. Then he looked at his pupils and checked his reflexes. He then asked Håvard a series of questions, ranging from simple to complicated, and gradually asking for more details. He continued his diagnosis and finally concluded:

“It doesn't seem serious. We should let him rest for a while and I'll see when he wakes up whether or not he needs a CT scan, but I don't think so.”

“Okay, that's a good sign," Emmanuelle sighed with relief. "Do you need help with anything?"

“No, I'll be fine thanks, but maybe one of you could grab him a change of clothes from his dorm for later?"

“I'll take care of it, it's on my way," replied Jordan.

“So, I have to sleep?” Håvard asked.

“Yeah, just take off your gear and sleep here. I'd rather keep you here for now, it’ll be quiet, away from the noise and bright lights.”

Håvard seemed to reluctantly agree. Maybe the former medic in him understood what Doc was getting at? He made a sad pout and Jordan teased him:

“Hey, don't worry, you're lucky, you get to nap for the rest of the day!”

“I'm going to be alone.”

“Well, you'll be asleep, you won't even realize it. And then, I'll come back to bring you some clothes, remember?”

Håvard started to take off his kevlar with Doc's help and asked:

“You will?”

“Yeah, man. I’ll come back.”

Jordan gave him a pat on the shoulder and winked at him. As he walked out of the room, however, he leaned against the corridor wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed. Emmanuelle, who was about to leave, stopped halfway and came back to see him:

"Jordan?" she asked with worry.

"Sorry, I'm just tired. Go ahead, I'll catch you up later.”

But Emmanuelle wasn’t fooled, and stayed, gently putting her hand on Jordan's shoulder, who had started fiddling with his hands.

"Jordan... you know it's not your fault, right? And he'll get over it, it's just a concussion like we all had. Remember when Taina knocked me out during training?”

"I should have waited until he was behind Gilles to detonate my charge.”

"It was also up to him to position better behind Gilles’s shield, he had plenty of time to do so. It's in his areas of improvement, you know, in his file. He has to work on his positioning, he’s too audacious.”

But Jordan could only hear half of what Emmanuelle was telling him. It was as if he was already somewhere else, further away, and his French friend's voice was just an echo at the bottom of a tunnel. He stared at his hands, the poorly hidden scars he could see under the wraps. He remembered how fortunate he was to continue where others had lost their arms, their legs, their validity; that he continued to breathe where people who would have deserved to live a hundred times more had perished. Today, Håvard had a concussion, but what if Emmanuelle was next? He thought of his other friend, years later, who had -

"Jordan?"

"I'm sorry, you were saying?”

"I said he was going to get over it and it was his fault too. Not just you, Jordan. You can't take all the blame like that. You did what you were asked to do, and anyway that's precisely the reason why we train. To calibrate this kind of thing so that it doesn’t happen in real situations.”

Jordan nodded, but more for peace than for acquiescence. He sighed and stepped away from the wall:

"Anyway. Let's take off our equipment. I hope we won’t be too late for the debriefing."

Twitch smiled faintly at him and didn’t insist. They went to take off their gear and after catching up the debriefing, he went to shower and change. With the rest of his day's work, the afternoon was quickly over, and he went to Håvard's dormitory, the one at the end of the south wing. He was surprised when he read on the door that Håvard was sleeping alone, in there, not bunking with anyone. He frowned and remembered that Wamai was sleeping in Maverick's dormitory, and that Sam had a single room because of his rank and special quality within Rainbow.

He opened the dormitory door and was frankly surprised by what he found there. There were four beds, each with its own individual amenities, but three of them were absolutely empty. Not even a sheet, a pen, a notebook, something on it, and at the end of the room, Håvard’s bed which was surprisingly well made. His things were tidy, his bed impeccable, and nothing was lying around. It looked like a real little boy scout's bed, and Jordan hadn't really expected that from Håvard: maybe he had had a more rigid childhood than he seemed? or maybe he was just more mature and professional than he wanted to appear?

Jordan opened the closet and quickly grabbed a change of clothes without prying too much; this was Håvard’s privacy, and he didn't want to dig around – yet, he was surprised to find a large toiletry kit with Korean beauty products in it. He quickly closed the closet for fear of being too invasive, then left the dormitory, closing the door behind him, and went to the infirmary to bring the clothes.

Once in the infirmary, in front of Håvard's door, Jordan had trouble getting in. He had a lump in his stomach. Sure, Håvard was going to be okay, _he was_ okay, but... he was in that state because of him, no matter what Twitch could say about it: Håvard had been propelled by the blast of his gadget, it was factual. If Jordan had waited before triggering it, if he had been more attentive, then it wouldn't have happened, period. He took a deep breath, and knocked on the door, but with no answer, he gently opened the handle without making a sound, tiptoeing into the room.

Håvard was sleeping like a log. He had taken off his equipment and his upper body was emerging from the blanket, dressed in a simple grey T-shirt. Jordan put the clothes on the table, then moved closer, to check that his eyes were closed and that he was asleep, but there was no doubt. Håvard’s cheek was comically pressed against the pillow, his eyelids were closed, his long blond eyelashes tangled with each other. Jordan started detailing his sleepy, and for once vulnerable, uncontrolled face.

His eyes were slightly ringed, probably from fatigue, and he noticed for the first time the acne scars on Håvard's cheekbones and understood better why he found Korean products in his closet. He also noticed his closely shaved beard, the roots of which were timidly starting to grow back on his pale milky skin. But there was also the slight pigmentation of his lips, and when Jordan looked at Håvard’s face as a whole, he realized something. Håvard was frankly a handsome man. Not necessarily his kind of guy, but it was factual: he was very handsome, and he understood why he was so successful on social networks. He had both this very masculine bone structure, and at the same time this milky softness and these long Scandinavian blond eyelashes, these light bushy eyebrows and-

Jordan was violently pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of a vibration. He jumped at it, and quickly identified the source: Håvard's phone on the table.

Jordan hurried to retrieve it before it woke Håvard up, but when he saw the word " _Mamma_ " on the screen, he panicked. _Shit, Håvard's mother_. Håvard often mentioned his mother, she was very important to him and very supportive and... and she was going to worry if he didn't answer?

Jordan left the room, going in the hallway and before he realized it, he had swiped his finger on the green button.

"Kjære?! Er du ok?! Hvorfor sv-"

_Aaaah Norwegian. Sweet language, isn’t it?_

“Ahem… I’m sorry ma’am, I’m… eerr a colleague of your son.” Jordan awkwardly tried to calm her.

“Co-Colleague?!! Is he ok?! Why he is not answering?!”

“He’s okay, he’s sleeping. He was injured but he's going to wake up any minute."

“He will? What happened?”

"Yes, it's nothing serious, he just had a bad fall, but he's fine. He's resting for now. I can tell him to call you back, if you want?”

"Ja takk! And tell him I am very angry."

Jordan chuckled:

"Will do, ma'am. Sorry for the bothering."

"Wait... are you _Jordan_?"

Jordan froze. _Oh no... It's about to get cringey._

"Yes, I am."

"Oh Jordan, thank you. My son often talks about you, he says you are nice and you helped him to improve."

Guess Håvard was one of those operators who had trouble keeping their relationships at the base for themselves. Rainbow was supposed to remain a top-secret organization, but perhaps Håvard’s working with Nighthaven, meaning with other international operators, helped keeping the secret of why he truly was in Great Britain working with American agents.

“That wasn’t much, I was just doing my job, ma’am.”

“It is important for me, Jordan. I know my son is difficult, but he has a big heart. He just wants people to love him, but he doesn’t choose people. He wants _all_ people, but it’s stupid. But you are a good friend with him Jordan.”

“Eeer he’s not a bad guy,” he tried to say. “He’s just… yeah, he seeks attention.”

“He seeks _love_ but in a stupid way. I tell him all the time. Can you tell him? He will listen to you.”

“Tell him he’s acting stupid? That shouldn’t be too hard,” he joked.

She laughed as well:

“I like you Jordan. Thank you for answering his phone.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

“Bye bye, Jordan.”

Jordan hung up and looked at the phone.

_What the hell just happened?!_

Jordan stood in the corridor for a few more minutes, just staring at Håvard's phone. Maybe he shouldn't have answered. In fact, probably not. He hadn't asked for Håvard's permission, and he had just used his phone and talked to his mother, and maybe Håvard hated mixing personal and professional matters? Maybe he wanted to preserve his relationship with his mother, not to worry her or involve her too much, keep her away and...

Jordan sighed, thinking about his own mom. Thinking of her worried calls. All the times he had been injured and refused to let her know. All the times he had wanted to call her but was afraid she would hear him cry. All the times he wished he could have done things differently, all the times he should have just answered her messages, found the time to call her and tell her how much he loved her before-

He shook his head and walked back into Håvard's room to put the phone back in its place. And he was surprised to find Håvard waking up.

"Oh, you're awake?” Jordan asked.

Håvard rubbed his eyes like a child just waking up from a nap, and muttered:

“Ah Jo-Jordan. Did you come by to see me?”

“I did more than that," Jordan laughed, showing him the phone, "I was on the phone with your mother.”

“M-My mother? Oh my God, she's going to kill me, what time is it?! I told her I'd call her in the afternoon... “

“Don’t worry, I've reassured her.”

“Oh. So you _did_ talk to her.”

“Yeah, sorry, I didn't want to, but... your phone started vibrating and I was afraid it would wake you up. And when I saw that it was your mother, I don't know, I thought it was… the right thing to do? I mean, I just thought she might be anxious, and it wouldn’t do any harm if I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have?”

“N-No. It’s… It’s nice. Nice of you. Thank you. Did she say anything… ?”

“Anything… ?”

“I don’t know. Embarrassing?”

Jordan chuckled and went to sit down at the bottom of Ace’s bed.

“Apart from the fact she knew my name and said you’ve been talking about me?”

“Weeeeeell, about that…”

“No, she didn’t. She was just worried about you. You two seem to have a… special bond.”

Jordan’s voice had dimmed into a murmur, and Håvard looked for his eyes, with worry.

“Y-Yeah we… we’re close,” he carefully replied. “My… my father left when she was still pregnant, so it’s been just the two of us for a long time.”

Jordan’s eyebrows twitched at Håvard’s confession.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Nah don’t be, it’s ok. I’ve grown up without him and he seemed like an asshole anyway. He left my mom for a brand-new oil field in the late 80s. At least, that’s more original than leaving for the yoga teacher, like in those movies haha!” Ace joked. “So yeah, it’s… you know. It’s ok. Never missed him.”

“Yeah but still. I’m sorry. I know how it feels to grow up with a single mom.”

“You do?”

“Yeah… M-My pa died in Iraq, during the Gulf War.” Jordan awkwardly explained, feeling that after Ace’s confession he ought to tell a bit as well, though it felt terribly uncomfortable. “My mom did her best to raise us on her own, making sure we wouldn’t lack of anything, and she too used to… worry a lot, so… “

“That’s why you answered my mother.”

“Yeah.”

“Well thank you. For sharing this and… answering my mother.”

“She scared the shit out of me though. Yelling those Norwegian words at me.”

“Haha! Sounds like my mom.”

“Your language sounds like a drunk German speaking English. Like a super drunk version of Elias.”

“It doesn’t!”

“It totally does.”

“I could teach you some words if you like. I’m good at _tongues_ and-“

“Languages.” Jordan corrected him.

“Tongues.” Ace insisted with a wink.

“Are you flirting with me again?”

“I may be.”

Jordan chuckled:

“Man, even concussed you’re still an annoying little flirt.”

“But you like me.”

Jordan rolled his eyes, a grin timidly forming on his lips, as he stood up, patting Ace’s leg:

“Get some rest, man. And call your mother, or she’s going to kill me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) I hope you liked this chapter. Funfact, the part with Ace's mother was one of my drafts for Siegetober's "Flora" prompt. It was about Jordan bringing flowers to Ace at the hospital and accidentally talking with his mother on the phone, in a very cringey conversation haha 
> 
> Anyway, I'll continue to dwell on their psychology and interactions a bit before bringing some action; I hope it'll be ok for you guys.  
> Thanks again for reading! Lemme know what you thought <3 And have a nice weekend.


	4. Beneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Håvard has his first real interview with Harry.  
> And blackmails Jordan into a movie night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! Sorry for the wait, I’ve been busy with other fics, and I’m snowed under with work, but here it is 😊  
> This chapter is still very _psychological-slow paced_ , but more about Håvard. I hope you’ll like it.  
> \+ As usual, sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

Håvard was waiting for the elevator, swiping on his phone to check all his latest notifications. And he was happy. His last post had been quite successful, and he had gained more followers. Every once in a while, he would reply to one of his fans, quoting them, proud to be able to give importance to someone and imagining the emotions of that person, and their cries of hysteria at the idea that _Ace_ had noticed them.

He smiled, but was pulled out of his meditation by the elevator. He went inside and pressed the button for Harry's floor and put away his phone, cracking his back. He was starting to rust. He couldn't wait to see Doc tonight to confirm that he could resume training.

His palms were slowly getting sweaty. Not that he was stressed, but he didn't like those "shrink sessions"; not many people did, but he had to get through them, it was in his contract with Rainbow. Fortunately, Kali had at least managed to limit these sessions to a maximum of 20 minutes per month. Håvard didn't even know where Harry found the time to do more, they were so many operators and yet he insisted on seeing them on a regular basis. Emma had told him that some of them had known Harry when he wasn't even Six, when Aurelia Arnot was still in charge.

The elevator door opened to Harry’s floor and Håvard dragged himself out of it. He took a deep breath, grabbed a piece of gum, which he quickly started chewing, while repeating the few lines he had learned, _just in case._

He then knocked on the door and heard Harry tell him to come in, so he did.

“Hi, Håvard!” Harry cheered, pronouncing his first name rather well, probably because he had revised it. “Please sit down on the couch. Do you want something to drink?”

“No thanks, I'm fine.” Håvard replied with an impeccable smile, sitting on the couch with a faked nonchalance. Harry came and sat down in front of him with his notebook and recorder, asking him in a casual voice:

"So Håvard, how are you doing?"

"I’m fine. I've recovered well and Doc should allow me to resume training, I have to seem him tonight. So, I'm happy, I was really starting to go round in circles, and I didn't want to fall behind the others.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I don't want to be a deadweight to them, and have to be removed from the squad or something.”

Harry seemed honestly surprised.

“You think you're that easily replaceable?”

Håvard shrugged his shoulders:

“Yes and no,” he replied, "but I know that if I'm not up to the task, it's going to be disabling and I'll have to be benched, as they say. And I feel like I haven't had time to prove my full potential yet.”

Harry laughed and replied:

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you still have a lot of leeway before you're a liability. Is there a reason you're so worried about it?”

Håvard pretended to think, but finally shrugged his shoulders:

“Not really. I'm just being realistic, and I don't want to be a burden to the others.”

Harry squinted. He seemed to assimilate something into his mind, but he didn't reveal anything. Håvard, on the other hand, was rather pleased with the beginning of the interview. The sentences he had learned sounded pretty good, and so far, everything was going according to plan. Harry resumed his questions:

“And speaking of the others, how is it going with them?”

"It's going well. Gilles is a good leader, I appreciate and respect him a lot. Jordan and Emma are very nice. And Monika... I think our personalities are not very compatible. She can be a bit bossy. I think she takes a lot of things too personally, and she doesn't understand that other people can be different from her when it comes to issues and challenges. But that's the way it is, we are all different.”

"Yet, I would have thought that you would have gotten along well? You both have an appetite for challenge and being the best at what you do," Harry said.

_Ah, maybe that's why she and Ace were having such a hard time. Overachievers would often see each other as enemies, potential shadow casters, and see their flaws in the other._

"I tend to think we don't have the same challenges in mind,” replied Håvard without a blink, “I think Monika is more focused on the perfection of the execution and technical infallibility, while I'm more... "

"More?" repeated Harry.

"More focused on people’s safety, my performance as a trusted member of the squad, and being able to assist my colleagues and victims in dangerous situations.”

Harry nodded silently, a sign that he was listening, but he seemed to be thinking, his eyebrows frowning very subtly. Håvard took advantage of the short silence to continue:

"Did... Monika say anything about me in relation to this? About our "disagreement"? Or maybe someone else?”

"As you can imagine, I'm not allowed to disclose the content of our interviews, Håvard," Harry replied with a small smile.

"I know that she and Jai don't get along very well either. I know Jai can be a little harsh and uncompromising, but she wants the best for everyone. I've heard she's been called a mercenary, a gun for hire, but honestly, we're nothing like those private Russian or American security companies. We save people, we act where governments are overburdened; you know how many hostages I helped free in East Africa? 31. Of all nationalities. This is something I could not have done with the FSK, because of the diplomatic chains of the UN and NATO that make intervention in these countries very complicated. And I have absolutely nothing against these organizations; I'm just saying that I could never have saved all these people without Nighthaven, and without Jai. And it's the same story with the human trafficking that was dismantled at the border of Mexico; you must have heard about it? We were able to surgically intervene and I freed more than 14 children.”

Harry nodded silently, pinching his lips slightly at the sound of these heroic yet gloomy tales.

"Yes, I've heard about them. That's part of the reason Kali gave us your file for Rainbow, for your experiences as a combat medic and in rescue missions, saying you were the best at what you did.”

Håvard smiled candidly, satisfied, and lowered his eyes slightly. Harry even thought he saw the Norwegian's cheekbones turn pink, so much the compliment seemed to genuinely reach him. He took the opportunity to quickly ask:

"Is Kali's approval very important to you?"

"Yes, it is. She gave me this opportunity, and it's good to know I'm not disappointing her."

"You seem to esteem her a lot.”

"Yes. I will be eternally grateful for the place she has offered me at Nighthaven. And she is a true professional, an exceptional sniper and a great fighter. I love being around the best.”

"I can imagine. Is it a feeling you didn’t have within the Norwegian special forces?”

Håvard shrugged his shoulders:

"I don't know. I've often had mentors, role models, but there's always been a moment when... how can I put it, when it faded away? Either I reached their level, or the magic fainted. So, on the one hand I sometimes miss my country and I had a good time with the FSK. But on the other hand, I feel better at Nighthaven with Kali, I feel more useful, more in action. I feel like a hero.”

Harry smiled at Håvard's cheeky honesty. If the Norwegian seemed so concerned about what his teammates were thinking of him, he was clearly not afraid of looking pretentious. And at the same time, there was something curious and genuinely childish about that: children didn't dream of being heroes in order to be famous and earn a lot of money. They dreamed of what was behind it: independence, not missing anything, not being useless and helpless while facing a threat, and being loved by people. What was Håvard looking for, in all this? Security? Independence? Usefulness? Or Love?

The interview lasted another ten minutes, which was much shorter than Harry was used to, but again, those were the terms of the contract with Nighthaven. And that was better than nothing; this way Harry could keep enough distance so as not to raise their suspicion as a threat, and at the same time keep them close enough to get to know them. As the saying went: _friends close, enemies closer_.

Once he heard the elevator door close and knew Håvard was out of listening range, Harry turned off the audio recording of their conversation. He saved it and started a new one for himself:

"For an immediate debrief, off the cuff, I would say I expected no less from Håvard "Ace" Haugland. He is in constant control of his image, of his script, and does not give others time to make up their minds about him; he immediately tells them what to think.

During our interview, I noticed his tendency to immediately analyze the situation and the answers to my questions almost as if he were a psychologist himself. He didn't want me to make up my own mind, to think anything other than what he had in mind. It's interesting, and I think we'll have some pertinent exchanges for the future. I think Ace is a lot smarter than he lets on, and for that matter, I find similarities with Grace "Dokkaebi" Nam's behavior when she first started here and with personalities like Seamus "Sledge" Cowden, who use their stories and their persona to hide their insecurities.

And of course, I wonder what all this search for attention and glory, this need for approval, is concealing. I have a few ideas, but I think I'll need a few more interviews with him to challenge them.

During the last part of the interview, I was also surprised to hear about his recent camaraderie with Jordan "Thermite" Trace. I thought the two would get along, but I didn't expect to hear about “friendship” anytime soon. Knowing Jordan, he must have enjoyed being able to get to know someone else and turn away from his own issues again. And as for Håvard, I think he admires Jordan for his many talents, and appreciates that Jordan doesn't overshadow him. Surely, they also find each other in their humor and the denial of their coping mechanisms.

It's still fresh, but I would like to follow the evolution of this friendship.”

* * *

"So, good news?" asked Håvard, impatient.

"Yes, you can resume training tomorrow, but take it easy," Doc replied, putting away his medical tools and rolling on his chair to the computer where he started typing. "No sparring, no scenarios, no shooting range, and keep avoiding long exposures to intense lights and sounds.”

"So, what does it leave me with?” Håvard scoffed.

"The gym, the workshop, and all the theory. It's already enough."

"And I guess I'll be able to pick up the scenarios and the rest in a week or so, right?”

"You were a medic, H-Håvard. You should know that.”

"Yeah, yeah... I just wanted to see if it was negotiable.”

"Would you have agreed to negotiate in my place?”

"As you said, I was a _medic_ , not a doctor.”

"I saw that you had studied medicine in your file?” Doc asked, turning around in his chair to face him, frowning.

"N-No. I mean, yes. I... um... I did the first year but then I... I had to do my military service. It's compulsory in Norway. So, it forced me to stop my studies, and in the end, I preferred to help people in the field, I felt more useful in the army.”

Gustave had a discreet smile, and replied:

"I can relate. And, speaking of that... I wanted to get your opinion on something," he asked.

"Sure, what's the matter?"

"I've been thinking a lot lately and I was wondering... would you be comfortable carrying some medical equipment with you? I mean, an extensive first aid kit with additional capacity and material. You don't have one in your squad, while in the Bravo squad, Olivier has one in his backpack. And I know you're a combat medic and you've been specialized in this kind of mission for a long time, so... what would you think?”

"Hm, I think it's a great idea, and I should clearly be able to carry one," Ace replied, "that way, if someone is badly injured, I'll probably be able to save lives. Whether it's hostages, teammates, I'll be able to help a lot more.”

He didn’t voice it properly, but Håvard was absolutely _delighted_ with the suggestion. He liked the idea of being more than the rescuer, of being _the savior_. He would be the one who would be entrusted with lives in situations of great stress, people would ask for his help, trust him with their lives, he would be the hero of the situation.

But he kept it all to himself, and anyway, Gustave seemed relieved by his response:

"I'm glad you feel that way," the Frenchman whispered with a discreet smile. "Of course, I'm not empowered to change your loadout or anything, it has to be jointly approved by Harry and Kali, but if you could slip them a few words, I think it would help. What do you think?”

"Sure, I'll talk to them."

"Great. Well, everything's good. I'm just going to update your file and let everyone know that you're back to training. Get a good rest tonight and don't do anything stupid, right?”

"Sure Doc. Thanks."

Håvard left Doc’s office with a goofy grin on his face. He hoped to see Kali the day after, in the morning, and looked forward to talking with her about it.

That same evening, Håvard came out of his dormitory to get a bag of herbal tea to put in his thermos before going to bed. It was already 9 p.m., but instead of going to sleep early so that he would be in top shape the next morning, his brain had decided to burst with unspent energy and keep him awake and… bored. So Håvard was delaying his bedtime, surfing on Tik Tok, reading a few pages of a book, stretching, and then getting out of his dorm to chat with whoever he came across.

He didn't have many friends yet, to be honest. It had only been a couple of months since he arrived. He got along surprisingly well with Melusi, who had arrived in Rainbow with him, but Thandiwe was making her own life now, and he was not part of it. There was also Jai, of course, and Emma and Julien, from the GIGN, who were simply adorable and probably incapable of any animosity. And even though he hadn’t talked much with him, he had a good feeling with Seamus, the hyperactive Scotsman, but the latter was hanging around too much with Mike who... well, couldn’t stand Håvard.

But of all of them, the one he liked the most was Jordan. With his sense of humor, the way he sometimes responded to his teasing, his latent kindness; the guy was honestly a sweetheart. And arriving downstairs to get his herbal tea, he was surprised to find him in a corner of the cafeteria. Jordan was sitting at a table, focused on paperwork, a mug smoking with a brown liquid next to him. Håvard forgot why he had come, and rushed towards him:

"Sweetie pie!"

"Urgh, not you again," grumbled Jordan.

"You break my heart!" Håvard replied, faking offense.

He sat down in front of Jordan, and quickly saw that his paperwork was the evaluation of a prototype explosive charge. And that the mug next to him was coffee. _Coffee at 9:00 p.m._

"What do you want, Ace? I thought Doc told you to stay in your dorm and get some rest."

"Guess what, just saw him earlier and he said I can go back to training tomorrow."

"Lucky us," Jordan chuckled.

"But right now, I'm bored," Ace told him, while putting his head in his hands, looking at Jordan with a fake lover's gaze.

"And why should I care?" Jordan replied while bringing his mug to his lips.

"Jordan, I thought we were more than just friends."

Jordan almost spit his coffee out, which made Håvard laugh. Jordan coughed, and replied:

"No, but seriously, shouldn't you be resting in your room? It's late.”

"It’s so late that here you are, drinking coffee and working in the cafeteria."

"Touché.”

"Come on, the day is supposed to be over.”

"Urgh," Jordan gave in, just to have some peace. “ _What is it that you want_?"

"I don't know, maybe we could watch a movie?”

"Miles and Marius are already watching a documentary in the break room, and knowing them, they won’t free the room until after midnight, so be my guest if you want to spend the evening watching spiders copulate.”

"So, can we watch a movie in my dorm, then? I have tons of them on my computer.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow and asked:

"Didn't Doc tell you to stay away from screens and intense light sources?”

"It was mostly for the first few days, now it's okay as long as I don't overdo it. So, you coming?"

Seeing that Jordan still seemed skeptical, Ace continued:

"Oooh, come on," he whimpered. "I'm all alone in my dorm, it's not like we were going to bother anyone.”

Jordan sighed. Yeah, actually, he really wouldn't spit on a little break or a movie to clear his head, and he felt bad for Håvard, seeing him wandering around all alone. But at the same time, he had just received a report on a gadget being prototyped by the Ghosts, who had asked him for his opinion as a demolition expert.

"I don't know, I wanted to finish reading this, so that tomorrow I could-"

Ace got up and took Jordan’s coffee mug off his hands. Before Jordan could get up to stop him, he had emptied it into the sink, and went back to rip the paper from his hands:

"It's 9:00 p.m. Jordan. The workday is over.”

"My coffee! That’s wasting!"

"What's a waste is you spending your evening working rather than resting. Now come to my dormitory and we'll watch a movie. And if you struggle to find it productive, just think of it as teambuilding.”

Jordan stood up and tried to catch the paper from Ace’s hand, but Ace raised his arm higher and... and, well Ace was 10cm taller than him.

"Really, Ace?” Jordan sighed.

"Yeah. And you know, technically you're the reason I had a concussion, so you owe me that,” Ace joked.

But what must have been a simple joke had the effect of a burst of bullets, as a heavy silence settled in. And Håvard was no fool, he saw the damage on Jordan's face, as his expression suddenly darkened, his eyebrows twitching, his eyes looking away and wiggling to the right, his body stiff with stress.

"I’m… I’m sorry," mumbled Håvard as he lowered his hand with the paper. "I'm sorry, that was not-"

"No, that’s the truth," Jordan sighed, "and you're... you're right. I owe you that and I- yeah, a movie sounds good.”

"I didn't want to blackmail you. I mean, I know it seems like I do a lot of blackmailing, but I really... I'm sorry. Don't feel obligated.”

Jordan then had a faint smile on his face, which Håvard didn’t know how to interpret, and shrugged:

"I had to stop working anyway, and... I didn't know what to do tonight, so, okay. In your dorm you were saying?”

"Y-Yes, you can meet me there in 10 minutes if you want.”

"Perfect, can you give me back my report, just so I can put it away?”

Ace quickly gave him back his paper and Jordan took it quietly. As Jordan then walked away, probably to the workshop, Ace facepalmed and squeezed his eyes shut. He heard someone enter the kitchen, and for once, felt so relieved that no one had witnessed the scene. He was such an idiot. He had hurt one of the sweetest men of the base, the one everybody liked, the one _he_ liked as a friend, one who seemed to actually care about him, who has reassured his mom on the phone, brought him clean clothes, had opened up a bit about his past and-

Had it been anyone else, Håvard probably wouldn’t have regretted anything of it. Yeah sure, blackmailing people into paying you attention and having fun with you wasn’t very ethical, but he had been walking round in circles and was so bored that he couldn’t care less about other people’s feelings. But was it worth hurting Jordan? Right now, he was feeling so bad, that he almost felt nauseous.

“I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled for himself.

Ten minutes later _,_ Jordan knocked on the door of Håvard’s dormitory, Håvard who leapt out of his bed to greet him:

“Hey! You really came!" Håvard enthused.

“I said I'd come," replied Jordan, almost offended that Håvard was surprised that he had kept his word.

“Great. I'll show you around?” joked the Norwegian.

“I already know your dorm. Don't forget that I brought you clothes at the infirmary.”

“Yes, that's right. And by the way, that wasn’t... embarrassing?”

“What, your dorm?”

“Yeah? I mean, I didn't leave anything lying around?”

Jordan frowned as he walked into the room:

“No, it was spotless. Everything was tidy, your bed was well made. A real little soldier. Did you learn that from the army?”

“From the army and _my mother_!" Ace laughed. “Come, sit on my bed, I'll just unplug my laptop.”

Håvard went to get his laptop, which was loading on a table in the corner of the dormitory. Jordan sat on his bed, adjusting his hand wraps.

"I never really asked you,” Jordan started, “how long have you been in the army? I mean, you were a medic before you met Kali, right?”

“Yup. I enlisted at 19, after my first year of medical school, for my military service; it’s compulsory in Norway. And I actually kind of liked it, so I stayed there. I joined the Special Forces program after my service and specialized as a combat medic. And I met Jai' in... 2017? I had to wait until the end of my contract to join her, so overall I served 12-13 years.”

He opened his computer and turned it on, the bright light of the screen illuminating his face:

“Turn the light down,” Jordan asked him, “Doc told you-“

“I know, I know. I'm just waiting for it to start properly.“

“Anyway, I... I didn't know you had served so much,” Jordan admitted.

“Well, it's not like I've been in Iraq or anything, _unlike some people_.”

“I've only been there twice. And I left the marines afterwards.”

Håvard turned down the screen light once he got into his session, before Jordan scolded him, and started his film application. He took the computer with him and sat down next to Jordan, continuing the conversation:

“Do you regret it? I have a feeling that even if you weren’t in the army anymore, you've clearly done your part with the FBI, right?”

Jordan started to fiddle with his hand wraps and fell silent. He remembered the harsh words of his grandfather, who a few years before passing away had hammered home that he would be a disgrace to the family if he didn't follow their military lineage. And conversely, the soothing words of his mother, who swore that he didn’t have to enlist out of a sense of obligation. That his father wouldn't have liked it, that he would have wanted his happiness. And he thought back to Iraq. To his comrades who were less fortunate than he was. He remembered the chaos, the civilians, the defiance, the fear everywhere, the terrible friendly fire, the blind demolition and...

“Hey?" asked Håvard again.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

“I was just saying that even if it wasn't the army properly, you've clearly done your part with the FBI from what I understood.”

“Y-Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

Håvard then turned the screen to Jordan and said with a big smile:

“Pick your poison. This is my entire film library.”

“Wow... were you afraid of being bored here?” Jordan joked.

“I didn't know I'd meet _such charming company_ ," Håvard replied with a wink.

Jordan almost blushed and gave him a gentle shove:

“Stop it! Are you even really gay?”

“Didn't I show you my rainbow socks?”

“Clothes don't make the man.“

Håvard laughed before looking Jordan straight in the eye:

“You won't find anyone gayer than me, sweetie pie.“

“I don't know, you seem pretty comfortable flirting with girls.”

“Touché,” laughed Håvard. “So, what do you want to watch?”

Jordan shrugged.

“I don't know, something light-hearted? A comedy maybe?”

“Hm... I think I know what we need.”

Håvard scrolled down the catalog, his gaze attentively drawn to the screen, biting his left thumb lightly while his other one fiddled with the touch pad. Jordan looked at him for a few moments. Håvard was sometimes quite mysterious. He spent his time flirting, making jokes, telling stories, but could sometimes reveal things about his past as if it were nothing, worthless, as if he had some distance. As if this part of his life, of his past, had nothing interesting and not worth telling with as much spirit and effect as the exploits or missions he liked to highlight.

It was as if he preferred to divert attention to _Ace_ , rather than _Håvard_.

Jordan wondered why. Was Håvard just like that, or was he hiding something? No one really knew him. Jordan even felt like he was a little privileged compared to others, considering his accidental phone conversation with Håvard’s mother. And he remembered those words: “He just wants people to love him, but he doesn’t choose people. He wants _all_ people, but it’s stupid.” He almost chuckled to the memory and the frankness of his mother. She sounded funny, and perhaps that’s whom Håvard had taken his humor from. Jordan’s eyes wandered on Håvard’s face and he noticed that he could no longer see the acne scars that he had spotted when he was sleeping in the infirmary. The words escaped him before he realized it:

“Are you wearing make-up?”

Håvard opened his eyes wide, surprised by his remark:

“Y-Yes? Is it too visible?”

“Not really just... I thought you had marks and... “

“Yeah, it's BB cream, it hides imperfections.”

“ _Imperfections_?” Jordan repeated with a frown. The word was harsh for a few natural marks on a skin.

“Yeah, mostly my acne scars,” Håvard reluctantly admitted.

“Oh... okay. I think my hands could use make-up too, then!” Jordan joked.

“Your hands are perfect, sweetie pie. Your burns are sexy, it looks badass.”

“Are you saying that just to make me happy?”

“Depends, does it work?” Håvard replied with another wink.

Jordan giggled, and leaned against the wall. Håvard started the movie, and then came and stuck himself against the wall too, close to Jordan, with his computer on his lap:

"Is it okay if we sit like this? Otherwise, I can go and get a table.”

“No, that's okay, don't worry," Jordan replied. “Thanks.”

“If you're cold, take my blanket.”

“Roger.”

Håvard smiled, while switching the movie’s language to English.

“It's been ages since I've watched a movie with someone," he confessed.

“We used to have movie nights before, during the first year of Rainbow’s reactivation, when there weren't many of us. Just the GIGN, the GSG9, the SAS, the Spetsnaz and us. And then it got a bit complicated to deal with all the new arrivals, the first White Masks crisis, the permanent deployments. There are always parties organized from time to time when some of us are off, but it's less organized and difficult to follow and… Oh wait, I think I know that actor! I've seen him in something before.”

And the discussion slowly shifted to the movie. They laughed on a few occasions, chatted once in a while, discussing the plot or the actors, and as the film progressed, tiredness began to take both of them. If the film hadn't been at least interesting, Håvard would have dozed off, especially with the remnants of his concussion and the recent boredom that caused him to be constantly lethargic. But he continued to watch until the end. Until he realized that a weight had fallen on his shoulder in the meantime.

"Jordan," he asked in a low voice, "are you sleeping?”

No answer. Jordan had fallen asleep against him, his head on his shoulder, and Håvard's heart was pounding violently. Why was that? Why was seeing this man asleep against him, in such a vulnerable and tender state, putting butterflies in his stomach? He contemplated him silently, motionless, for fear of waking him up and resuming the paused course of time.

Jordan was surely one of the most beautiful men Håvard had ever met. He was not atypical, but there were many small details that dotted his skin and face in a unique way. His mouth was like a line of peach-colored gouache on a canvas, his short stubble was manly cute, and his black, almost Asian hair was sprinkled with discreet white hair here and there - too white for his age; which was saying a lot about his morale and the stress he had been under. And then there were those hidden silver crystals that served as his eyes; eyes that sparkled with humor and kindness most of the time, but sometimes... tarnished by something else.

He thought back to what he said earlier. About his idiocy, the words that had escaped him. He hadn't thought for a second what he was saying. It wasn't Jordan's fault that he had a concussion and... why did Jordan seem to feel so guilty? Surely other similar accidents must have happened, whether it was with the recruits, or with the traditional breaching charges that other operators were carrying. Why did Jordan seem so affected by this small accident?

Jordan's eyelids began to twitch, and his eyes gradually opened. He scanned his surroundings and rubbed his eyelids:

"Shit, I must have dozed off.”

"The movie has just finished, no worries.”

"Oh, yeah? Sorry, I think I missed the ending.”

"That's okay. It gives me an excuse to invite you back to _my humble abode_.”

Jordan stood up with a chuckle.

"Next time, I'll choose," he joked.

And it definitely hadn't fallen on deaf ears.

"Fine by me. Next week, same time then?" Ace quickly replied.

"Are you serious?”

Håvard raised an eyebrow with a satisfied smirk. Jordan rolled his eyes, chuckling, and opened the door.

"Goodnight, man.”

"You didn't answer my question!”

"See you tomorrow!” replied Jordan, sticking out his tongue and closing the door behind him.

Håvard had a goofy grin on his face, putting his laptop on his bedside table and letting himself fall back on his bed. Jordan was a good friend. A _very good_ friend.

But why the hell was his heart still pounding?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are :) I'm sorry for the lack of action, but I really needed to establish a few things for Håvard's character.  
> Anyway, this is it, thank you for reading, I hope you liked it 😊 Lemme know!


	5. Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace's silver tongue gets him into troubles and Thermite helps him out.  
> But then, an old face resurfaces from the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! I’m sorry it took me years to update, but yeah, been drowning with work and couldn’t stop playing AC Valhalla in my spare time...  
> \+ I had to rewrite the next three chapters like 3-4 times because as you’ll see… ~~Winter~~ Drama is coming :]  
> \+ as usual, sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

The next morning, Håvard woke up early. He was happy to start training again, and he had received a message from Jaimini informing him that Aruni would be arriving in the afternoon. And Håvard was absolutely _delighted_.

They had met Aruni in 2018, during an operation in Thailand, where Nighthaven had been contracted by a wealthy businessman close to the State, for a drug issue in the touristic region of Phuket. And there they met Apha Tawanroong, a private detective both atypical and skillful, with whom they found themselves teaming up.

They met her again in 2019 for a similar case, but in Bangkok this time, and Jaimini insisted that Apha join them, hinting at Nighthaven's prestigious R&D department and their state-of-the-art prostheses and exoskeletons under development. And Apha had finally accepted in the course of 2020, attracted both by their latest gadgets and the dawn of new challenges. And Håvard had always gotten along well with her. She was warm, with a lot of character, and she didn't mince her words. And just like him, she loved to travel and take pictures. Håvard had even published several photo albums and articles related to mine victims in Southeast Asia, something very important for Apha. He had even organized a fundraiser for a charity taking care of victims (and had been delighted by the popularity associated with it.)

In short, he was happy, the day couldn’t start better.

 _Or perhaps it could, with some Jordan, eh_ , Ace chuckled to himself before shaking his own thoughts off his head. He stood up from the chair and retrieved his breakfast tray to put it away, and went to the coffee machine for a last morning cup. And there he met Jaimini, her own cup in hand, leaning against the counter while Monika was rocking a shaker.

"What I mean is that… I could let you fire it if you want," Jaimini murmured, her cheeks almost purple.

Monika turned around, her loose green jogging falling back on her body as she stared at the Indian woman:

"You can’t be serious.”

But it wasn't sarcasm that left her German lips; it sounded more like disappointment.

"Yes, I am,” Jaimini proudly stated.

"I assume you want something else in return?” Monika asked, while squinting at her nemesis.

"How about a day without you harassing me for blueprints?" Jaimini laughed.

"And then... you will let me try your sniper?”

Jaimini detached herself from the counter and reached out her hand. Monika stared at her suspiciously.

"That sounds surprisingly cheap coming from a businesswoman like you. What do you really want?”

"What if I just want to spend some time with you?”

"I don't believe you. You keep saying that your time is money, so just tell me already: what is it that you want in return?”

"Watch out, dollhead, I'm two seconds away from dropping my hand and-“

Monika rushed to shake her hand before Jaimini changed her mind.

"Tonight. Shooting range, block F. 1830?” the German woman quickly blurted.

"I call it a deal,” purred Jaimini with a sly grin.

Monika then withdrew her hand, a timidly satisfied smile appearing on the corner of her lips, as she poured the solution from her shaker into a sports bottle, scraping the edges with a rubber spatula. She then put the shaker and spatula in the dishwasher and left quickly afterwards. Jaimini finished her cup of coffee with a contented smile, her black eyebrows gently arched upwards, absent-mindedly gazing at the spot where Monika had been standing a few seconds ago.

"Well, I thought you didn't fraternize with the enemy," Håvard laughed as he grabbed a ceramic cup.

"Oh? I didn’t see you!” Jaimini exclaimed while turning to him. “You heard everything, I guess?”

"Enough to see that the blonde genius doesn't leave you indifferent, am I wrong?”

"Well, it’s not doing any harm,” Jaimini scoffed, “and if I get her on our side, maybe Mira and Ash will get off my back.”

"So, it's all calculated?"

"Not totally. But I like the idea of killing two birds with one stone. But how about you, _Håvard_. How's it going with the cowboy?” she asked with a sly tone.

Håvard chuckled, understanding very well who Jaimini was referring to. He took the empty water tank from the coffee machine, and started to fill it in the sink.

"He's nice,” he plainly answered, as if he didn't care that much about Jordan. _As if._

"Don't get fooled by his pretty face. He's very close to Eliza Cohen. I’ve been told they were like siblings.”

"Honestly, he's everyone's sibling if you want my opnion,” Håvard joked. “He must be the second most popular person on the base. After me.”

"Huh, still with your social media things?” she snorted. “I hope you continue to pay attention to confidentiality agreements?”

"Yup. No worries about that, you know you can trust me.”

She simply answered with a smile. Håvard put the water tank back in the machine and suddenly remembered his conversation with Doc yesterday.

"Oh and, Jai, I had a question by the way. About my loadout.”

"If it's about those rumors, about you wearing extra medical gear and all, don’t worry, it’s all taken care of.”

"Oh... is it?”

“Yes. They came to lecture me with their suffecient tone, but I told them the bottom of my thoughts and don't worry, we're not going to weigh you down, we'll stick to your current loadout.”

This was not quite the answer Håvard had been waiting for. Honestly, he had already gotten used to the idea of transporting more medical equipment and had already imagined a dozen scenarios, stories in which he would have been the hero of the situation. But at the same time, he didn't dare to go against Kali; it was risky to take Rainbow's side against her, she wouldn't easily forgive him, and the idea of offending her or her losing confidence in him was petrifying him.

"So... you thought it was a bad idea?" he cautiously asked for confirmation.

"Yes, they wanted to give you more medical equipment. But if they want a medic in your squad _so badly_ , they should replace someone with their Belarusian! If you carry more equipment, you're going to lose speed and mobility, and we both know you can't jump into action if you're too heavily equipped. Remember the time you saved me in Somalia? Imagine the same situation, but with the loadout of a medic: you simply wouldn't have been able to jump out and reach me.”

Håvard thought some more. His brain going on a roller coaster ride in his head. Until now, he had been convinced that Doc's idea was great, but Kali's arguments were not bad. If he carried more gear, he wouldn't be able to run as fast, rappel down so easily, and be in the thick of it, he wouldn't be on the front lines anymore since people would rather spare him in case of a problem. In case the _heroes_ got hurt.

"Clearly they didn't think it through,” he finally said.

"Of course they didn’t,” Jaimini approved. “And honestly, if they think I haven't already thought it through... "

"Let's just say that carrying more medical equipment might have been practical under normal circumstances," Håvard mumbled, "but in this case, that’s just a stupid idea.”

Jaimini nodded silently, rolling her eyes, finishing her cup and putting it in the dishwasher.

"Anyway, don't worry about all that. I must see them all day, because of Aruni's arrival. Could you spend some time with her, by the way? I'm sure I'll be pretty busy, and you're officially still recovering, aren't you?"

"Yes, I should be available, my official schedule will probably drop at the beginning of next week, until then I'll mostly stay at the gym. We'll find time for a Nighthaven-only meeting, I guess?”

"Yeah, I will try to get Ngũgĩ later today to make sure he’ll be available.”

She looked at the time of her smartwatch and sighed:

"Erf, already 8AM. Well, I'm off. Take it easy at the gym.”

"Will do. See you."

And she left. Håvard then put his cup in the coffee machine, but a shadow passed, and he felt an imposing presence behind him with a familiar male scent. He turned around and saw Lion, who was standing straight as an I, arms folded, biceps bulging, and dark eyes.

"Hey, Olivier, how are you doing in this beautiful morning?" Håvard bragged, "you don't seem in a very good mood.”

"I heard what you said to Kali.”

"It's not great to listen to other people's conversations, you know. Do you want the coffee machine?"

Lion stepped forward menacingly, stopping at arm's length, his eyes still dark and his face closed.

"I know what you've said to Gustave yesterday."

"Aaand what did I say that brought you to see my pretty face early in the morning?"

Lion stepped one more time and considering their similar heights, they were eyes to eyes, the atmosphere thick with tension.

“I’m not joking. I see clear in that little game of yours,” Lion rumbled.

“And what little game of me are you talking about?” Håvard sighed, not too happy with Lion’s attitude, “because right now, you’re the one playing riddles with me.”

“You told him you were on his side. That you were agreeing with him regarding your loadout. And you know what? He was so fucking happy to talk medic things with you, to hear someone agreeing with him on something, that he talked about you when we were dining with the rest of the GIGN yesterday. He was fucking _praising_ you. But I knew something was off, and you just gave me the confirmation. I heard what you said to Kali. How you turned your back on Gustave without the slightest remorse.”

“And what’s your point, _Lion?_ I don’t think either of these conversations are your business.”

“You lied to Gustave. You manipulated him! He was singing your praises yesterday while you were just lying to him. You called his idea “stupid”! But you know what? Gustave may be a naïve optimistic man, but I am not one to be fooled. So, from now on, stay the fuck away from him, you hear me?”

Ace scoffed, shaking his head, before looking straight into Lion’s eyes:

“And says who? Who do you think you are, exactly?”

“I’m a Rainbow operator. Unlike you. I’m his colleague and his-“

“His tortured ex-boyfriend, I think that’s the phrase you’re looking for.”

Their foreheads were dangerously brushing when Thermite came out of nowhere, quickly inserting himself between them:

“Ooook buddies, let’s just chill out, shall we? I know it’s early in the morning, and everybody needs a good coffee and-”

“You stay away from him, you hear me?” Lion repeated, “or I’ll send you back crying to your poor _mamma_.”

“Don’t talk about my mother,” Ace suddenly replied with a sharp voice, his face dark.

“Or what?” Lion provoked, “figured you’d be a mama’s boy, considering all your-“

Ace tried to sidestep Jordan to dive on Lion, but the American grabbed his arms to keep him a few steps away. Jordan looked for Mike, who was sitting not too far away and sipping his coffee, lifting his eyebrows as if saying _I’m not going to stop them from gutting themselves,_ and Jordan begged him with his eyes for help.

“Don’t talk about my mother,” Ace threatened. “Or I’ll break your jaw so badly your ex-boyfriend won’t even be able to fix it. But anyway, it’s not like he could be any more disgusted and-“

And this time, it was Lion who nearly managed to punch Ace, but Jordan shoved him off with a shoulder blow, as the situation was definitely going out of control.

“Mike, help me already!” Jordan cried.

The British veteran rolled his eyes and reluctantly stood up, quickly hooking Lion’s armpits with his arms, and keeping him away.

“The fuck, man!” Lion growled, “you hate him too, Mike! Just let me land a punch on his stupid Instagram filtered face and teach him a good lesson!“

“Oh yeah?” Ace snorted. “Why don’t you try, kitty cat? I’d-“

“Stop it, you too!” Jordan shouted at him, pushing Ace away.

“Joe, why the fuck are you protecting him?!” Lion groaned, still firmly held by Mike.

“I’m not protecting _him_ , I’m protecting both of you. Come on, stop acting like children! We’re colleagues! Professionals! We can’t just fight each other like fucking teenagers!” Jordan cried. “So now, both of you: cut the bullshit. Either talk like two grown-ups or go take a damn cold shower!”

Lion shook Mike off, keeping his distance from Jordan and Ace. He pointed his finger at the latter:

“If I ever find you bullshitting Gustave again… You’ll have to deal with me.”

“Huh, you think you’re scary, don’t you?” Ace provoked back.

“Shut up, will you?!” Jordan scolded him. “That’s enough. Let’s cool off your head a bit, shall we?!”

Jordan grabbed Håvard’s arm and dragged him out of the dining hall. He forcefully walked him outside, in the yard, and sat him on the bench.

“What the hell was that, man?” Jordan asked. “You know better than picking on Olivier like that.”

“He asked for it. I was just going for my coffee and he came to yell at me and lecture me like I was a stupid kid.”

“Yeah but… Man, you didn’t have to play his game, you know how hotheaded he can be.”

“He talked about my mother.”

“He didn’t mean to bring her up, it was a way to get on your nerves; he doesn’t even know her or anything.”

“I still can’t tolerate that.”

“Well, he seems not to tolerate someone playing with Gustave.”

“I didn’t _play_ with him!” Ace protested, almost upset that Jordan was not on his side. “I just _talked_ to him, how is that bad?”

“From what I heard you told Gustave the opposite of what you were telling Kali.”

“Yeah but like, it’s nothing serious. Who cares? It’s not like I could make a decision in their disagreement or anything. I just told him I agreed with him, how is that playing with him?”

“But you told Kali you were agreeing _with her_ and called Gustave’s opinion stupid _._ ”

“Yeah but as I was saying, _who cares?_ It’s not like I could decide anything. And besides, I can’t just tell Jai I openly disagree with her, she’s my boss and I can’t just… I can’t disagree with her!”

“So, do you agree with her or with Gustave?”

“Urgh with Doc, of course! I used to be a medic, I know what’s best for a team’s safety and I do think that me carrying medical stuff in my loadout, even though I would probably be less fast, would benefit everyone.”

Jordan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose:

“So why can’t you just tell that to Kali? Just because she’s your boss? You could at least speak your mind, even though your loyalty stays with her.”

“Yeah, but what for? I don’t want her to be pissed at me!”

“So, you lied to her.”

“Urgh, you don’t get it,” Håvard grumbled, pulling at his short hair and sinking his head in his palms, his elbows on his knees. “Nobody tries to understand.”

Jordan sighed and sat next to him, gently patting Håvard’s back.

“It’s just… you can’t tell one thing to someone, and the opposite to someone else just because you don’t want to upset them.” Jordan explained. “You’re lying. Not only to them, but also to yourself. And I’m not saying you should always pick sides or anything, but just… be yourself, speak your mind. People will never trust you if they don’t know where you stand and… yeah, if they don’t know who you are, what your opinions are, your beliefs and all.”

“But I’m being myself. This is who I am! And if people don’t like it, then it’s not my problem, I’m doing my best!”

“You’re just a bundle of contradictions, aren’t you?” Jordan chuckled. “You try to always tell people what they want to hear and rub them the right way, but sometimes you just can’t help being provocative. Why?”

“Urgh, what is it, an improvised shrink session?” Håvard bitterly replied.

“Sorry it’s just… I want to understand,” Jordan mumbled.

“And why bother?”

“Because I like you and-”

Ace suddenly turned to him, his eyes squinting and a naughty smile on his lips, and Jordan knew at that moment, that he had chosen his words very badly:

"I knew it," Håvard purred.

"I didn't mean it like that!”

Håvard chuckled and gave him a gentle shoulder shove:

"I know. But why, then? I know Olivier and Mike are your friends, and they hate my guts. And yet here you are with me. Why?" he genuinely asked.

"Because you're my teammate and I know you're not just a diva,” Jordan replied.

"Not just a diva?! What does that even mean?”

"You know what that means.”

"Urgh, no, but more seriously? Why, in spite of all this, are you here?”

"You forgot something very important about me, man.”

"Which is?"

"I’ve talked to your mother.”

Jordan then winked at him as he stood up from the bench and Håvard couldn’t help but laugh at that answer. And it's only then, that he realized how Jordan was good at dodging questions. Throwing jokes like smoke grenades, clouding his emotions and creating diversions. Håvard almost sighed, giving up on the answer he probably won't have today and Jordan looked at his watch:

"I'm really sorry I have to go, we've got some new equipment at the lab, and I've been told that a new operator is arriving today, so Mira won't have much time," Jordan sighed. "You’ll be okay?”

"I'll survive. And yes, that's Aruni, a colleague from Nighthaven, she's great. I’m sure you’ll like her.”

"Urgh, Nighthaven again?" Jordan whined. "I understand why Mira said she'll be busy all afternoon, it's going to take forever to deal with Kali. Anyway, if you want, we can catch up later today, if you need to talk? Just try to avoid Lion in the meantime, I'll try to work on him during the lunch break.”

"You don't need to, you know, but... thank you. I’ll spend the morning at the gym and I'll welcome Aruni in the afternoon.”

"All right, see you later then.”

"See you later, sweetie pie.”

But instead of rolling his eyes as usual, Jordan... winked at him.

And Håvard froze.

_... Did Jordan just flirt back?!_

Later in the afternoon, Håvard waited for Aruni in front of one of the meeting rooms where Kali, Ash and Harry received the new operator properly. She finally came out, shaking hands with everyone, and her scarred face lit up when she saw Håvard:

"Oh, Håvard! I'm so happy to see you!" she cried as she went to take him in her arms.

He bent down to hug her back, and Kali appeared with a small smile:

"Well, I'll leave you with him, Apha. I've got a lot of work to do with Rainbow, we'll meet up later and we share the same dorm anyway.”

"Roger, see you later.”

Jaimini gave them a quick military salute and disappeared into the hallway. Apha broke away from Håvard and punched him in the shoulder:

"How is my favorite _fashion viking_?”

Håvard laughed at the nickname. He had missed it.

"I'm doing well, and what about you? You seem to be in great shape!”

"Yes. I'm super excited to start here; I've already met a few operators and it looks promising. It's quite incredible to see all these people of all nationalities and from the best special forces in the world gathered here… in this lost English countryside!” she joked.

"Wait till you see the rest of the amenities, we've got some serious gear. Shall I show you around?” Håvard then offered with a smile.

"Yes please, I haven't seen much yet.”

"Sure, follow me. You already know the briefing rooms so I'll take you to the workshop, it's not too far.”

"Jai told me that we're not allowed to discuss our gadgets with the Rainbow personnel, so I'm not sure I'll get lots of opportunities to set foot in there.”

"Indeed, but we still have the right to use it. And we can go there to have Rainbow's defective equipment inspected. I had a problem with a drone on a scenario, so I brought it here for repair. Jai has set up a videoconferencing system with our engineers, for quick maintenance just in case, it's in a separate soundproof room at the end of the workshop you'll see.”

"Great. Jai told me that she’s negotiating with Rainbow for support on the maintenance of my prostheses, but it sounds a bit complicated if they don't have the blueprints.”

"Yeah... she's adamant about that,” Håvard sighed before realizing something: “Wait a minute, where's Hero?"

"In quarantine, I was able to spend some time with him and he didn't seem stressed, but I’m pretty sure he'll get bored soon.”

"Erf, poor little guy.”

"Anyway, how are things going for you here?"

"Pretty good actually. I arrived in late spring, and I was assigned to a squad that specializes in hostage rescue and CQB situations. My teammates are top-notch and very nice. But I'm just coming out of convalescence, because of a small accident, so I haven't had time to prove myself or save the day.”

"Always playing heroes, huh?” she teased him with an affectionate elbow.

"Oh, and I need to show you my latest photos! I got some nice shots in the region. There are some nice sunsets razing the old buildings of the medieval city. And the sky is quite clear at night.”

"Great! I'll have to show you my last pictures as well, I took a lot of them during my last trips.”

"I can't wait to see them! I’m so glad you’re here.”

Håvard opened the workshop door with his badge and Aruni entered with amazed eyes. Håvard guided her inside, explaining the organization of the place and where to find the necessary equipment:

"-so, if you need to reserve a lab bench, there is a reservation system on the computer we saw at the entrance, but most of the time there is enough room for everyone. Then, you have the chemistry lab, the access is just over there on the right. It is imperatively necessary to pass by the small checkroom and the decontamination to get in there, so let’s stay in the workshop for now, eh?”

"And who’s in charge of all this?”

"Mira. You’ll surely meet her soon. But IQ and Twitch spend a lot of time here as well, so you can ask them if you need anything. From what I heard, there’s been some new equipment delivered today, so they’re perhaps unloading it at the parking at the moment. And as for the chemistry lab, you have Smoke for everything related to grenades, and Thermite for everything related to breaching.”

"I love these code names, haha!” she laughed. “They’re pretty... informing.”

Suddenly, the fire alarm in the chemistry lab went off, the light started flashing, and they heard the sprinklers opening from their position. Håvard was about to go in the lab to check that no one was in trouble inside, but the alarm stopped and a man came out, completely soaked:

"Son of a bitch, someone needs to fix that hypersensitive shit!"

It was Jordan, whose drenched T-shirt and lab coat were molding his upper body. He took off his goggles, full of droplets, and Håvard couldn't stop giggling:

"Sweetie pie, did you play with fire again?"

"I didn't do anything! I was just-"

Jordan stopped and suddenly paled when he saw Aruni. Håvard looked at her, and saw that she seemed equally shocked to see Jordan.

"Jordan?" she blurted.

"Apha?”

"Er... I presume you guys know each other?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : D
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it.
> 
> I’m once again sorry for the delay of the chapter. Chapters 5-6-7 were the messiest because I had to add Aruni to the story after her reveal, and it took me quite some time to find the right balance + the animated cutscene hinted at Thermite and Aruni's reunion being at the stadium, so like... in Greece. And it really didn't fit my fic, so yeah, had to work on that too. 
> 
> I hope the next chapter won’t take me that long to translate and publish haha  
> Anyway, lemme know what you thought <3 Have a nice day.


	6. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up after Aruni's arrival. But not in the right way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but more drama.  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

"Er... I presume you guys know each other?"

But Ace got nothing but silence as an answer. Jordan was truly stunned, drops of water dripping from his hair onto his motionless, pale face, as if he had seen a ghost. As for Aruni, she seemed more relaxed, but her surprise was betrayed by her gaping mouth. And she was the one to finally break the silence after a few long seconds. She snapped her fingers in front of Jordan, and joked:

“Anyone home?”

Thermite blinked as if to wake up and stammered:

“Um... it's... it's been a while.”

Håvard, on the other hand, was completely lost. Clearly, Apha and Jordan knew each other, but why was their reunion so... gloomy? Håvard noticed that Jordan was tinkering with his hand wraps, in a reflex, and he wondered if there was a connection.

“You look good,” Aruni joyfully exclaimed, giving him a loving pat on the arm.

Jordan did his best, but clearly couldn’t help glancing at Aruni's prosthetic limbs.

“Hm thanks... y-you too,” he stuttered.

Aruni then turned to Ace and raised her eyebrows. Ace pointed at himself with a questioning look, and she pointed to the exit with her eyes. He quickly understood the message:

“Ah yes, uh... yes, I'll- I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes, eh? I'll be right outside. Outside the workshop. I mean on the other side of the door. I won’t listen or anything, just- Ok, I’m leaving.”

He left awkwardly, unable to stop himself from taking a few peeps over his shoulder towards the duo he was leaving behind. And when he opened the door to leave the workshop, he saw Aruni with Jordan in her arms. Jordan who was... crying? Håvard's heart stopped beating when he closed the door, veiling the scene.

He leaned against the wall in the corridor and started chewing at his nails. He was trying to fill in all the holes on his own: _how had they met? And how long ago?_ Jordan looked both surprised and sad at the sight of Aruni's prostheses. Was it because he had recognized the prostheses as being from Nighthaven, or the mere fact that she had them? Håvard knew that Aruni got her prostheses after an accident in 2014, that's what she had told him. A bomb in the middle of Bangkok city and a car accident. If she had met Jordan before that, then Jordan hadn't even been at Rainbow. And how would the Royal Thai Police and the FBI have worked together? The FBI was a federal police force, right? What would they do outside the US; were they even allowed to operate overseas? And same for the Royal Thai Police…?

Maybe they had met outside of their work, then? Maybe they were...

Håvard stopped breathing.

 _Maybe they were former lovers?_ That would explain a lot. Aruni's surprised yet so sweet look at the sight of Jordan's face. Her taking him in her arms. And Jordan... Maybe they were former lovers separated by their work? Their lives as national officers? Separated by their countries, and the Pacific Ocean? And now that they'd found each other again, were they going to...?

Håvard groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. Why was this idea so terrifying? He should be happy for them, shouldn't he? Whatever their relationship. But why did the idea of Jordan having a relationship with Aruni twisted his guts? She was great and... he was great too, and they'd both be awesome together. The kind of adorable little couple, all perfect, all cute.

Håvard let himself slide until he fell on his butt in the corridor. Okay, maybe it was time to face the truth. _Did he have feelings for Jordan?_ How was that possible? How could he even hope such a thing? It's not like Jordan seemed interested in his exploits, his persona, his number of followers... all those things, Håvard’s accomplishments, didn't interest him. And maybe Jordan was simply straight? Håvard had never really asked him, but in the absence of denial, he had always taken at least his bisexuality for granted.

He straightened up and took out his phone to take his mind off the whole thing, surfing on Tik Tok or his other networks, hoping to clear the sky from rain clouds; he wouldn't have any of his answers here, outside the workshop. But after a while, probably a good fifteen minutes, he couldn't hold himself back any longer and timidly opened the door. Aruni heard him and waved him over, allowing him to come in. And he very willingly did.

“Let’s continue later, okay?” she told Jordan.

"Y-Yeah. We’ll see each other again anyway, now that you're here.”

When Håvard arrived at their level, he noticed that Jordan's eyes were red, but his cheeks were strangely dry, despite a few droplets from his hair still wet from the fire-fighting fluid. And he must have been cold, still damped, even though he had taken off his lab coat; revealing his muscular, naked arms, so well sculpted in his wet T-shirt and-

Håvard hastily took off his fleece jacket and handed it to Jordan:

"Here, you're still wet.”

"Oh, uh, don't worry, I-" mumbled Jordan.

"Jordan, you'll catch a cold. Don't worry, you'll give it back later," Håvard gently insisted.

Jordan sighed with a faint smile and agreed. He looked completely washed out, exhausted, as if a train had run over him. He put on Håvard's jacket, and it looked pretty good on him. To tell the truth, Håvard almost had butterflies in his stomach at the sight of Jordan wearing his clothes. It looked good. It felt right.

But did Jordan also perceive the possible intimacy of the gesture? Or was Aruni the lucky one, the keeper of those beautiful silver eyes?

"So, Håvard, let’s continue our little tour?” Aruni asked with a singing voice.

"Ahem... sure!” he replied.

Aruni affectionately patted Jordan's shoulder as he stood still and waved shyly. And when they were in the corridor, out of listening range, Aruni sensed the strange uneasiness in the atmosphere:

"I know him from before," she anticipated Håvard's questions, "especially from the accident, the one that disabled me for a while.”

Håvard turned to her with astonished eyes.

"Oh?”

“Yeah. 2014. An attack on the U.S. Embassy in Bangkok. The FBI was summoned to coordinate with the special forces and the Royal Police. We were able to defuse two bombs but the third was in a car. I was driving it out of the city while Jordan was defusing. And then a vehicle hit us. In the explosion I lost my arm, my leg, and broke my face: literally, eh. Jordan was propelled farther away because of the collision, and got away with a few broken bones and a concussion. We never saw each other again after that, hence the... surprise.”

“He looked... shocked, indeed.”

“Actually, I... I wasn't aware at the time, but I may have pushed him aside a little too much after the accident. I was so focused on my rehabilitation, my other projects, my return to the private sector, and I left too much void, too much silence. He filled it with lies.”

Håvard frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“He was convinced that he had abandoned me. And that I resented him for making me disabled. His words, not mine, by the way. He completely forgot that he didn't abandon me, but that he had been forcefully repatriated. That he is not responsible for my injuries, but this terrorist bomb is. That I didn't blame him, because why would I? We did our jobs to the best we could, both of us, and he got injured too. He seemed to have forgotten that bit as well…”

Håvard silently nodded his head.

"Well... what a story.”

"Yes, I feel like I still have some conversations to have with him. I just really didn't realize at the time how much... it affected him.”

Håvard scratched the back of his head.

"Yeah, I... I feel like he tends to feel guilty quite easily. He's so adorable, it's sad.”

She smiled and mumbled:

"Oh, he definitely is. A real sweetheart..."

And Ace tried to restrain himself by all means, but couldn't help but ask her:

"Soooo you were just colleagues or... there was more?”

"Oh, we were friends,” she replied with a grin. “We still are.”

“But friends, or...?”

“Or what?”

“Or friends-friends, like in boyfriend and girlfriend, or... ?”

“You mean, did we use to date?!” she exclaimed.

"Yes?"

"Oh my God no! No, Jordan is more like a younger brother than anything else. I'm the same age as his sister. And he used to tell me I have the same temper and character as her, so yeah.”

"Oh," Håvard simply replied, rather reassured.

"Why, do you have a crush on him or something?” she gently mocked, patting his shoulder with her prosthetic hand.

"Wh-what? Uh, no.”

"Oh, for real?!" she exclaimed. "I was just joking. You're blushing! _You?!_ Håvard? »

"He’s my teammate, Aru. I was just wondering, since you guys seemed so close!”

She squinted at him, obviously not buying his justifications, but ended up rolling her eyes, amused.

"If you say so. Can you show me the scenario simulator by the way? Kali told me about it, I'm quite curious.”

"Sure.”

Håvard started smiling again. But all these revelations about Apha, her accident and... Jordan, didn't make him very comfortable. He sensed that the next few days were going to be _special_.

He finished showing Apha the rest of the buildings and facilities, took her to the dormitories where he let her settle down, and then returned to his own things, intentionally passing by the workshop to see if Jordan was still there. He heard his voice further away, along with Smoke's, so he didn’t insist and carried on to the gym where other operators were already training. He spotted Wamai running on a treadmill, sweaty but impassive, as usual. He took the opportunity to tease him a bit and climbed on another treadmill next to him, putting on his headphones and music to compensate for his comrade's absolute silence.

And running did him a lot of good. The day had been of a rare density, after all. Between the argument with Lion in the morning, the conversation in the yard with Jordan, and then the revelations about his relationship with Aruni and their shared past. And last but not least, the discovery of his budding feelings. It was a lot. A lot all at once. He wasn't sure where to start, but he knew at least one thing: he couldn't wait to see Jordan again. To see if he was okay. He was still wondering if his silver eyes had been reddened by the firefighting fluid or by tears of sadness? Jordan had always been there for him, in spite of everything. In spite of his "diva" attitude, in spite of the arguments with IQ or Lion, in spite of Nighthaven. In spite of everything, Jordan had never let him down. Now Håvard was hoping to at least return the favor once and help him if he needed it.

He ended his session in a surprising calm. His phone had turned off the music without him noticing - since the sound of his thoughts was enough to dress the silence.

He took a shower, sharing a few words with Melusi whom he met on the way, and returned to his dorm before dinner time. And he was on his bed, tapping on his phone when he heard someone knocking at his door.

“Yup?” he nonchalantly answered, popping his chewing-gum bubble.

The door opened slowly, revealing Jordan. Instinctively, Håvard jumped out of his bed and came to meet him:

“Hey, sweetie pie?”

“Hum... hey. I just wanted to thank you for the jacket,” he mumbled as he showed the fleece jacket on his arm. “I'm sorry it's still a little wet, and since I was going to drop my clothes at the laundry, I thought maybe I could put your jacket in the machine too if you want?”

“Oh good idea, I have to drop off my clothes too, I'll go with you.”

"Don't worry, just give me your basket, I’ll take care of it," Jordan tiredly mumbled.

Håvard frowned and couldn't help but notice:

“You look exhausted.”

“Yeah, a bit,” Jordan replied with a shrug.

"Do you want to have a movie night later?” suggested Håvard.

"I don't know, I don't think I'm in the right mood," Jordan admitted, running a hand through his hair.

"It's your call," Håvard replied as he picked up his laundry basket. "Anyway, you'll always be welcome in my den.”

Jordan smiled faintly and held the door open for him, letting Håvard walk past. They walked down to the laundry room in a strange silence. Håvard felt like he was walking with a ghost, for Jordan stood silent, effacing. And it didn't suit him. Jordan was usually a sun full of humor and positivity; not some monochromatic, faded moon.

They entered the laundry room and ran into Mozzie and Rook. Max was retrieving his stuff from the dryer while Rook was about to start his own machine.

"Hi, guys!” exclaimed Håvard.

"G'day!" Max traditionally replied. "How you doing Lilo and Stitch?"

"Please, tell me I'm Stitch!" Håvard joked.

"Do you really need an answer?" Max scoffed.

Jordan sighed, stuffing his clothes in the laundry machine.

"What's wrong, Lilo?" Max asked with a worried look.

"Nothing, I'm just tired. Long day at the lab with James, new stuff and all."

"Urgh. Spending a whole day locked in an airtight lab with Porter, I can understand why you're tired.”

A smile formed on Jordan’s lips, but he didn’t answer anything. Max and Julien got worried and looked at Håvard, who just made a compassionate wince, confirming that Jordan was indeed having a hard day. Julien then tried to relax the atmosphere, starting his machine:

"Ah Håvard, by the way, I saw your latest pictures on instagram!”

"Oh, yeah? I didn't know you were following me, _you naughty boi_.”

Julien rolled his eyes with a chuckle:

"I'm not interested, Håvard. But I was just curious! Like a lot of people. I was just wondering what this onlyfans thing was all about, though? I don’t know this site.”

Håvard had a frank laugh:

"Aaaah! That's a special site where you subscribe monthly to get access to _special_ content.”

Håvard accompanied his explanations with a wink.

"So, you're posting _special_ photos there?” Julien asked again, squinting a bit.

"Yes, photos with less... clothes, as you probably got a glimpse at on insta.”

Jordan’s body paused and Max choked on his own saliva, hastily retrieving his clothes without even folding them:

"I gotta go!" he exclaimed as he left.

Julien was tomato red, and Jordan was still motionless in front of his machine.

"Ah uh... naughty photos... then?” Julien awkwardly mumbled to make sure he had understood well.

"Nothing ultra explicit. But yeah, with more skin. Girls like to see my abs, my back muscles, my buttocks and..."

Jordan closed the door of his machine firmly and Håvard, who was opening the website on his phone, almost jumped at the sound of it. But Jordan had forgotten some clothes outside the machine:

"Sweetie pie, you forgot some clothes there.”

Jordan sighed heavily and retrieved the things that had fallen out, reopening the door.

"Here, have a look. It’s that kind of thing,” Håvard told Julien, who timidly accepted the phone, swiping vertically through the different posts.

"Ah uh... okay. Yeah.”

"Sweetie pie, don't you want to see?” Håvard teased.

"I'm not interested," Jordan grumbled.

But Håvard wouldn't give up so easily. Not when he had a way to show Jordan special shots of his body, of his muscles. Maybe that could help tip the scales in his favor. Maybe Jordan would find him handsome and realize some things...

"Come on, don't be shy!" Håvard insisted, wrapping one of his arms around Jordan's stiffed shoulders and showing him his screen. “Here.”

Jordan sighed and finally looked at the phone. But his eyes widened more and more as he scrolled through the posts. Julien, on the other hand, was getting uncomfortable, and slowly started walking backwards, making his way towards the exit.

Jordan's eyebrows frowned suddenly.

"Hold on, what's that shit, Håvard? _‘For you, ladies'_ , _'God, I love women'_ , _'Please women, marry me?'_ Like what the fuck, man?!" he cried as he almost threw the phone at Ace and pulled away from him.

"What's wrong?” Håvard genuinely questioned.

"I thought you were gay?!"

"They don't know that, duh!" Håvard replied, as if obvious.

"I-I'm going to go, people are waiting for me!" Julien managed to utter before running away from the scene.

"And how is that ok?!" Jordan angrily asked Håvard.

"Come on, that's just a game. They love it, they're happy. Look at their comments, they-"

"I've seen enough!"

"Why are you so mad? I don't get it. It's social media: everybody lies, all is fake. And if I tell them I like men, I will lose so many followers and-"

"That's it, I've heard enough of this shit! I'm out!"

Jordan slammed the washing machine door shut and pressed the buttons without even inserting any detergent, and headed for the exit.

"But Jordan, it's just a persona!"

And Jordan turned around, furious:

"That's precisely the thing, Håvard! Everything's about persona with you! You always pretend to be someone you're not because you want people to like you and you end up lying just so fucking much that you can't even make out what's right or what's wrong! Like, honestly; did you just hear yourself?! I thought you could change. I thought you... man, I don't know what I thought."

Jordan turned again, determined to leave, and Håvard didn't know what to say to hold him back:

"Jordan, I’m sorry, I-"

"No, please, I- I've been a bit on edge lately. It's better if we don't talk... for a few days or something."

And despite all the inner conflict, despite the storm and the pain, Håvard for once decided to keep silent, for fear of adding fuel to the fire. He just watched Jordan leave, with a heavy and angry step that he didn't know him. And that's when he realized how real the damage was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Håvard still has a long road ahead ugh. I hope the chapter was ok :) I wanted to give it another proofreading or two tomorrow, but my brain didn't want to sleep till it wasn't published, so here it is.
> 
> Anyway, happy new year everyone and thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :D Lemme know <3


	7. Sloughing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordan still tries to cloud and evade his issues.  
> And Håvard finally grows up. _A bit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dialogue-heavy chapter which I hope you'll enjoy :)  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing (there are more of them than usual I think D:)

To say that Jordan was angry was an understatement; Jordan was absolutely _furious_. He was starting to suffocate in the building, in his own body even. Opening the door to the outside, he went in the yard and deeply breathed in the fresh autumn air with appetite, letting the cold tickle his nostrils and slide down his windpipe. He went to sit on the bench, the very same he had forced Håvard to sit on earlier in the morning after the argument with Olivier.

And he knew he wasn't in that state of anger just because of Håvard. It was a whole. Seeing Apha again, like that, without psychological preparation had been a real emotional shock. His eyes had filled with tears without him realizing it, when he saw her, for he had recognized her immediately. Her soft eyes, her small height, and her policewoman posture that she had preserved despite the amputation of her leg... And what an amputation. He had known about her lost limbs; he had even seen her in the hospital while she was still asleep, thick bandages around her body and face, like some bodies in the overcrowded infirmaries of the ravaging battlefields. All because he didn’t defuse that fucking bomb in time. He still painfully remembered his words: _"I need a couple more seconds.”_

Jordan slapped his hand violently against his temple _. A couple more seconds. A couple more seconds. A couple more seconds_. It was always like that with him. He was never there when people needed him; always too late and never there. Not there for Apha in 2014. Not there for his mother in 2015. Not there for his sister in 2018. He let everyone down, he abandoned the people who loved him... that's what he always did.

He thought about what Apha had said to him in the workshop. She told him he hadn't abandoned her after the accident, because he had to be repatriated. And it was true, but somehow he had completely forgotten about it. His visa that had expired, and the legal limit of the FBI presence. It was as if Apha had given him the key to a safe he had buried, allowing him to reopen a box full of forgotten memories. He now remembered the sort of airtight tunnel he had been put in, from the Bangkok hospital to the United States; the bus with his colleagues, his suitcase already packed for him - he had had no time for anything, not even a goodbye. And for good reason; he had to get to FBI headquarters as soon as possible, for Aurelia Arnot was about to reactivate Rainbow, and he was selected for the first recruit program.

But he also remembered the weight of guilt. Because _he_ was going to heal, _he_ was going to join an elitist special forces program while he had left Apha wounded in Thailand, alone in that hospital. But at least she was there now. Kali definitely knew how to surround herself well. Between Wamai, who was breaking sports records, and Apha, who was simply an outstanding special agent with an unfailing ingenuity. And Ace... Ace who was a paramedic of rare agility, with a lot of experience and adaptative skills for dangerous rescue missions... but who, once he stepped out of his role as an operator, could turn into the worst of the divas, so unbelievably clichéd and superficial.

Jordan started fiddling with his hands as he looked down. He'd been a bit hard on Håvard, but he was sometimes just at a loss with him. Why was Håvard so in need of attention? Why did he lie so much just for positive comments from strangers on social networks? How could he alienate his personality so much for _that_? How was the price reasonable? Håvard had everything it took to be a perfect guy. He was well-built, handsome, naturally funny and with a real good heart. Why spoil everything with all the attention-seeking, this need for approval, and all these lies?

He thought back to what Håvard's mother had said on the phone. _He just wants people to love him, but he doesn't choose people_. But to the point of lying and playing straight men with stupid posts and messages on his social media? That Ace had nothing to do with the real Håvard: Håvard was a proud gay man and anything but macho, so why?

"Urgh," Jordan grumbled as he rubbed his neck. It was none of his business, that was Harry's job, not his. But he couldn't help worrying about Håvard. He just wanted him to stop putting himself in bad situations and let the others appreciate him a little bit for who he really was and-

_Fuck, do I really care that much about him?_

Maybe.

Håvard honestly wasn't a bad person. He was a real clown, joyful, sunny and proactive; he did actually build his real mediatic kingdom in parallel with his career in the army and special forces, that wasn't nothing. And being a paramedic required some guts. Those stories of child trafficking in South America, and the hostage situations in East Africa that Håvard had talked about...

And Håvard was also capable of tenderness, attention; kindness even. He had seemed worried about Jordan earlier, and had lent him his jacket so that he wouldn't catch cold. He had also suggested that they watch a movie together, to cheer him up and-

A feminine voice resonated.

_My dear baby brother, let me get this straight: I want to be the first person you call when you start to finally grow some fucking feelings for someone that is not Captain America, is that clear?_

Jordan suddenly stood up to break the auditory illusion. He balled his fist, squeezing his eyes shut, and murmured:

"God, I miss you so much."

A whole week passed after that day. A very strange week. Håvard was fit for training again, so Alpha Squad had started to train in scenarios again, along with the Beta Squad. And Håvard had obviously listened to Jordan's words, since he hadn't come to tease him or talk to him outside of the strict necessity of the scenarios or some purely utilitarian phrases. But Jordan was not entirely comfortable with the situation. He even blamed himself. Not that he regretted his words, since for him Håvard had really gone too far on his social media, and he had had a hard time with his homophobic remark: “if I tell them I like men, I will lose so many followers” … But Jordan didn't like to be on the outs with anyone. Life was too short to argue with people you like.

_Who knows what might happen to them tomorrow?_

Jordan was unloading his equipment in his cage in the arsenal, after their scenario of the day, when Yumiko appeared.

"Hey, Jordan?"

"Hey."

"You’re ok in there? You seem… Something’s troubling you?”

"What? Hm no,” he answered without looking at her, taking off his plate-carrier.

"You look a bit elsewhere, lately.”

"Huh, it's not in my report," he joked.

She frowned:

"Indeed, but I’m sure it’s still marked somewhere that you're still acting too bullheaded and going too far in the heap.”

"Touché," he replied with a smile.

"Jordan, I'm serious. You seem to... lock in."

He sighed.

"It's nothing Yumi. I'm just worried about Mike and the others. I hope their operation goes well.”

And it was true. He _was_ worried about them, since Squad Charlie had been urgently deployed for a hostage rescue in Serbia, after the discovery of a White Masks hideout. And he didn't even have time to properly wish them good luck that they had already left. And if something went wrong, then he wouldn't even have had time to joke with Mike, Grace and the others one last time and-

Yumi came to sit on the small bench next to him.

"I'm worried too, but they're the best at what they do. Besides, that’s our job. We chose it. _They_ chose it.”

"Yeah, I know.”

"And Jordan, I know about it. About Aruni.”

Jordan had been unbinding his kneepads, when he froze in his gesture, raising his surprised gray eyes to Yumiko, who was still sitting on the bench with her arms folded.

"Oh? You do?" he simply replied, resuming his action and trying not to let out any emotion.

“Yes, I talked a bit with her, and we mentioned her prostheses. And she confessed to me what happened.”

“Oh. Hm, sure.”

“Jordan, why didn't you tell me about this? Is that what's been eating at you for a week?”

He just sighed, putting his pads in the box, and scratched his elbow.

"It's just... I don't really know. I hadn't seen her since the accident, and it felt really weird. But it's all good, because she's recovered well and she's here now, even though it's with Nighthaven. But it's just that..."

"That?”

Jordan sighed again, running a hand through his sweaty hair, still flattened by his helmet.

"Seeing her again reminded me of many things. And it's haunting me a little bit. Like a thought that keeps coming back. But I'm sure it will go away eventually. In a few days it will get better.”

Yumiko frowned.

"If it's a thought that keeps coming back, that _haunts_ you; maybe it's because there's some unfinished business that you have to confront in order to be a little at peace?”

"No, there's nothing unfinished. I mean, nothing unfinished on which I can act. It's not as if you can go back in time, make people come back and tell them... Well, you know what I mean.”

"Is this about your sister?”

There was a silence and Yumiko feared that she had been too direct and overstepped some invisible boundaries. But Jordan just admitted:

"A bit, yeah. But that's temporary. Sometimes you feel a little gloomy, and think back to the past, huh?" he tried to joke.

But Yumiko didn't smile the slightest, her brows furrowing with worry.

"When is your next session with Harry?”

"Next week. And I know what you're going to say, and the answer is no.”

"You really don't want to talk to him about that?”

"Nah, it's... it's my business, and I know what he's going to say, and I don't want to hear that. I'd rather take care of myself. I'll be fine.”

Yumiko stood up and squeezed his shoulder with affection:

"No one's going to force you, Jordan, but remember that it's also normal to ask for help when you're a little underwater. No one is invincible. At least, not alone. If you want, I can give you some more relaxation exercises... it can at least help you sort through your thoughts and calm your mind a bit.”

Jordan smiled and patted her hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you Yumi, I-"

He almost jumped when he heard the loud bang of the arsenal’s door being kicked wide open.

"Do you think they'd let me have a week in peace?! It's written in black and white in our fucking contract that they won't have access to our blueprints, and now _Grande Mira_ is once again trying to get her hands on Apha's gadget?!” Kali cried.

Kali and Ace had just entered the armory, and they stopped in front of their block, locked with a fingerprint system, so that no one but them could tamper with the weapons and gadgets owned by Nighthaven. Ace looked weary, he seemed to hear Kali without really listening to her, his helmet in his hand and his blond hair free from it.

"They mean no harm, they just want to understand how our gadgets work to prevent accidents," he replied plainly, entering the block to put his things down.

Kali didn't seem satisfied with this answer, and removing her own equipment, she began to grumble:

"I know, but when did I give them something to worry about? Or a reason to doubt us and our effectiveness? They signed that contract! Why can't they trust us and shut up?!”

Ace took off his plateholder, and unzipped the top of his suit, until his torso and arms, dressed in a long-sleeved sports shirt, were free.

"But how can they trust us if you don't trust them? Do you think Mira and Monika, two of the world's greatest military science engineers, are on your back just for fun? You're so secretive about everything, you refuse any dialogue with them, whether it's about gadgets or strategy, information, everything: how can you expect them to trust you, then? They're not going to wait for an accident or get into a fight with us if mercenaries have contracted you behind their backs!”

Kali first stood speechless at his words, but angrily replied:

"Håvard? What is this shit?! You’re taking their side now?”

"I'm not taking their side, Jai. I'm with you, you know that. But there shouldn't be a side when we’re here working with Rainbow, an anti-terrorist organization. There should be no sides when it comes to saving people.”

"Håvard, we are a private company. Not some humanitarian NGO. Our technology is expensive, and valuable. I'm not going to let anyone play with what I've spent years building, or copy our gadgets and then resell them at a more competitive price.”

"Do you think this is what Mira and Monika want to do? Play with it? Make money?! Jai, they work for NATO.”

"And yet, who arms the western armies, eh? _Public_ corporations? Håvard, you don't know what you're talking about.”

"No, I don’t and I leave this side of things to you. You're my boss, the creator and leader of Nighthaven and you know what you're talking about. _But_ I'm just saying that if we- if _you_ start trusting Rainbow a little bit more, if you start a real dialogue with them, then they'll trust you back, and everything will be better for everyone. I'm not talking about giving out the blueprints and changing the contract or anything but just... prove them that you're not going to turn against them if a terrorist or criminal organization pays you more than they do.“

Jaimini was so shocked by his words that she took a step backwards:

"Are you implying that I'm a mercenary too?! Do you really think I would agree to work for terrorists?! War criminals? Corruption barons?”

"No, Jai," Håvard sighed, tired by the conversation. "But that’s because I know you. I know your fights and your alignment. But _they_ don't know you. And that's why you have to dialogue with them and prove them you're worth trusting."

"They are the ones who contracted me, who pay me. I don't have to prove anything to them, if they're not happy with our services, all they have to do is cancel the contract.”

"Jai, you and I both know very well that you didn't take this contract just for the money.”

Jaimini paled, and violently put her sniper magazine on the table.

"Enough Håvard. I don't know what's gotten into you, but... stop it right now. I don't like your attitude.”

Håvard rolled his eyes and finished undressing, quickly leaving the block in an icy silence. Jaimini stood stunned for a few seconds before she put down her last equipment and left the arsenal as well.

Farther away, Jordan and Yumiko exchanged surprised glances at each other.

"Did Ace just talk back to Kali?” she asked.

"I think he just did..." Jordan murmured, astonished.

Håvard _did_ just talk back to Kali, and not just a little, not with nebulous phrases. No, he had clearly stood up to her and told her what he thought, and obviously neither of the Nighthaven operators had seen them, so Håvard hadn't even done it for the show, or to impress anyone. And knowing him, he must have felt bad about it, feeling ungrateful or thinking that Kali would hold a grudge against him for the rest of his life. He had always been terrified of disappointing her or losing her confidence, and that's why Jordan couldn't help but worry about him, despite everything.

"Jordan?" called Yumi, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Hm yeah? Sorry I- I’m just going to see if... well, I-"

"I got it. Go after him," she replied with a smile. "I'll send you the exercises later. Just be kind to yourself meanwhile, alright?”

He nodded his head and left the block, following in Håvard's footsteps. He shouldn’t worry, shouldn’t go after him, but he couldn't help himself. He walked down the hallway, reaching the locker room, near the showers, and went through the rows and found Håvard. Shirtless. Swiping on his phone. And Håvard had obviously heard him, as he looked up with his blue eyes. And Jordan turned red.

"I-I'm sorry, I..." Jordan mumbled, "I didn't know you were undressing, I-"

Håvard had a sweet smile and softly replied:

"That's all right, swee- Jordan.”

Jordan blinked to try to come to his senses and stop his gaze from staring and detailing Håvard's muscles, milky skin, small moles and-

"Hm, you wanted something?” Håvard asked, seeing that Jordan was still standing there.

"Ah uh, I just... I wanted to see if you... well, I- I kinda heard that you had a fight with Kali and I... well, I just wanted to see how you were feeling."

Håvard put his phone away and stared at Jordan with his slightly arched blond eyebrows.

"Even when you're angry with someone you can't stop thinking about them and worrying about their well-being... damn, I wish I could be like you," Håvard said as he sat down on the bench to take off his shoes.

Jordan sighed, leaning against Warden's locker and looked up at the ceiling to avoid ogling Håvard's half-naked body.

"I'm... not angry anymore. I was on edge that day, and I got carried away. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you things like that,” he said.

"You were right, though," Håvard replied. "I've had time to think about it, and yeah, I've really... done some dirty stuff. Between these stupid messages, these posts, this persona built to please people, to please the greatest number... and this latent and toxic masculinity. I didn't realize it had gone that far, so thank you for telling me and... sorry. sorry I bothered you with my stuff when you had just found Aruni again.”

Jordan pinched his lips.

"It's nothing, I just didn't handle my emotions very well.”

"Not sure many people would have done better in your place."

"But you… with Kali and those things, you seem to... cleanse stuff a bit? How do you feel?”

Håvard put away his rangers and stood up to pull the elastic band on his pants and took them off. Jordan hitched a breath, and pretended to look away. He was about to ask Håvard if he wanted to take his shower first and talk later but the Norwegian started talking again, merely dressed in his boxer shorts, hands on his hips, as if it was a perfectly natural way to talk to a colleague.

"Yes. Cleansing is a good word. I try to be less bitchy, as they say, and speak my mind even if sometimes I can't help but smoothing the rough edges and being evasive. I went to apologize to Gustave too. He seemed a little surprised, but accepted my apology, and Olivier stopped giving me killer looks so I guess they talked about it. And as for my social media accounts... I came out, so yeah, it changed a lot of things, but for the better, I guess.”

Jordan couldn't contain his surprise and stepped away from the locker, looking Håvard straight in the eye:

"Say that again?”

"I came out?”

"Didn't you say you had like thousands of followers?”

"Yeah and I lost 15k right after that, and received toxic messages, but it just confirmed that I didn't need these people in my followers. And I gained another 5k in return!”

Jordan was a little surprised by Håvard's reaction.

"Don't tell me you took it that well when that happened?" he asked.

"Oh no, I didn't sleep all night on the first day," Håvard admitted. "But I don't know, the further I get, the more I tell myself it was the right thing to do, and it feels like a weight off. Of course, I still have that sort of bitterness at the thought that I could have had more followers and subscribers if I had kept going like this. But now, I know that the people who follow me really like who I am and it's more... pleasing? Quality rather than quantity, as they say.”

"All this in a single week... Well, I don't really know what to say," confessed Jordan. "What triggered all this?”

Håvard grinned, and walked up to Jordan, getting closer until he was at arm's length - obviously still shameless about his almost totally naked body.

" _You_. You did,” he murmured, gazing at Jordan’s eyes.

Jordan swallowed his saliva, and mumbled:

"I hope it's not because I made you feel too guilty, or that you felt forced to please me, or to maintain healthy communication in the squad?”

Håvard laughed:

"No, let's just say you have this ability to see right through my bullshit and bring me back to reality," he admitted with a shrug. "I don't know how you do it honestly, we've only known each other for a few months, but... yeah. You're helping me. Thank you.”

Håvard's blue eyes landed on his again, and Jordan began to blush, feeling his heart beating abnormally fast and powerfully in his chest.

"You did it all by yourself, man. You have yourself to thank,” he replied.

"But without your help, I probably would have continued my bullshit for a long time,” Håvard insisted. “So I owe you one. And I feel a little guilty, by the way, you help me so much, and you put up with me in spite of everything, even right now, you came to me when we were a bit at odds... how can I help you in return?”

Jordan rolled his eyes with a smile:

"Start by not getting into any more trouble," he joked.

Håvard laughed, but didn’t let him go with that.

"And more seriously, Jordan? You always dodge my questions when we talk about you. It's not fair.”

"It's because I'm a secret agent," Jordan joked with a wink. "Code name: sweetie pie.”

He laughed, but Håvard didn’t. He just smiled at him with a fond look, and stepped forward again. Jordan instinctively backed away until his back met Warden's locker. And the scene was far too cliché for him, and Håvard was far too naked, and _damn why were his eyes so blue and his cheeky smile so cute?!_

Håvard gently pressed his forehead against Jordan's, who froze and squeezed his eyes shut at the contact, not knowing what to do, his heartbeat so deafening that he could barely hear Håvard's breath, which was yet so close, tickling his stubble. Warming his face.

The gesture was intimate, and definitely more than friendly.

But it was also terribly pleasant.

Jordan took a few breaths, enjoying the strange feeling of dizziness in his chest, and trying to focus on his heartbeats. But after several long seconds that seemed to suspend time, Håvard finally moved away and poked Jordan’s cheek with a chuckle:

"So you're not mad at me anymore?" he asked.

"Hm... no, I don’t think I am?" Jordan stammered, his face still hot from having Håvard almost naked right in front of him.

"So how about a movie, tonight?"

"Er... tonight like tonight?"

"Yeah. You wanted us to watch _Hot Fuzz_ , right?"

"... in your dorm?"

"Yeah? Like last time?”

"...sure," Jordan replied.

Because that couldn’t be that bad of an idea, right?

... Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit that I had to take a major decision upon writing this chapter and cut a part I liked a lot because it was too difficult to stage within the fic, timeline and everything. But I'll probably post it as a one-shot, in the hope that you'll like it :3
> 
> Anyway, as usual, thanks a lot for reading and following this story!  
> Lemme know what you thought of this chapter <3


	8. To deserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace and Thermite share a moment.  
> And things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more psychological chapter. Sorry it took me years to write it but eh, you’ll see :’)  
> I hope you’ll like it! As usual, sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

“Great! You found some clothes!” Jordan joked while entering Håvard’s dorm later in the evening.

“I can still take them off if you want to appreciate my fine-looking body, sweetie pie.”

Jordan scoffed, rolling his eyes while unlacing his shoes at the entrance of the dorm.

“What?!” Håvard faked an offended grimace, before winking at Jordan. “Don’t tell me you don’t find me attractive?”

Jordan, still crouched, looked up and pretended to assess him from head to toes, before lifting his eyebrows, saying:

“Well, you ain’t ugly.”

Håvard gaped so much he nearly dislocated his jaw, which made Jordan laugh. But Håvard just snorted:

“That’s honestly both very upsetting and the Jordan-est thing I’ve ever heard,” he said while combing his blond hair with his fingers. “ _I ain’t ugly_ , yeah, sure cowboy, and that’s why people pay to see my body!”

“Do they really pay for your special stuff?” Jordan asked while taking his military boots off.

“Yeah, they do. But I donate like 80% of it to charities, since I have a good pay at Nighthaven, and I keep the 20% to buy photoshooting stuff, pay my Adobe licenses for my content and some other things.”

“Careful Håvard, or I might think you are actually doing it out of altruism rather than a need for positive publicity.”

Håvard just sighed, rubbing his neck, and Jordan felt a bit bad for saying that.

“Sorry, that was a low blow,” Jordan murmured, crossing the dorm to sit on his bed, next to him.

“I mean, there is some truth in that,” Håvard said with a shrug.

“But you’ve changed. You’re making efforts. I’m- I’m kinda proud of you,” Jordan admitted.

“Thanks, but I-“ Håvard stopped mid-sentence, realizing something when looking at the entrance.

“What’s wrong?” Jordan asked, frowning.

“Jordan… what size are your shoes?” Håvard murmured, squinting his eyes a bit.

“What?”

Håvard stood up from the bed and Jordan grabbed his wrist in a reflex.

“Urgh, normal size!” he quickly added.

But Håvard just smirked slyly at Jordan:

“Sweetie pie… “

“I mean, they’re normal size,” Jordan tried to dismiss while letting go of Håvard’s wrist.

“Hm… you sure about that?”

Håvard walked to the entrance and put his own shoe next to Jordan’s and gaped at his realization.

“You have tiny feet! What size are those?!”

“Urgh, 8. That’s very normal.”

“You mean US 8?” Håvard frowned “I can’t remember this US sizing thing, let me check on my phone for the EU equivalent.”

“No, don’t!”

But Håvard quickly got his answer and when he did, he smirked at Jordan again:

“It’s EU 41.”

“Which is normal.”

Håvard put his phone away and practically threw himself at Jordan and tackled him to the bed.

“Which means my sweetie pie has tiny feet!”

“Urgh, stop it or movie night is cancelled!”

Håvard propped himself up on his elbows, still framing Jordan underneath him and looked at him, grinning.

“ _Hot Fuzz_ you said?”

“Yeah. You told me you’ve never seen it,” Jordan argued. “And I know you. After this movie, you’ll be absolutely unbearable with the SAS boys. And I don’t want to miss a moment of it.”

“You want me to tease people? I can do teasing. I’m good at that.”

“I know,” Jordan chuckled, gently smacking his hands on Håvard’s hips. “Now, how about we watch that movie, huh?”

“Yeah, sure,” Håvard quickly replied, blushing at the contact of Jordan’s hands on his body, and standing up to get his laptop.

Håvard retrieved it then went to sit back down next to Jordan, and started the movie, turning the main light off and sitting comfortably, one of his pillows behind his back.

“You’re all good?” he asked Jordan.

“Sure,” he plainly replied, already absorbed by the movie.

Håvard took the opportunity to steal a few glances at him. His gorgeous face, with his dark eyebrows, his silver eyes, his greyish stubble with his peachy cute lips. Jordan’s eyes met his and his heart skipped a beat.

“What?” Jordan asked, frowning. “Listen to the beginning, or you’ll ask me ten times what they said!”

Håvard chuckled because that did sound a lot like him, and reluctantly focused his eyes back on the screen. The whole thing, their conversations, their touches were so domestic. So warming. Håvard could get used to that. To having Jordan all for himself; the fragrance of his Cologne next to him, the warmth from his body. _Jeez, should I tell him tonight?_ Håvard wondered.

He set his attention back to the movie, which happened to be an excellent pick. They laughed a lot, both of them, and sometimes even had to pause it just to take a few breaths and massage their abs from all the fits of laughter. And when the movie ended, Håvard started to rub at his facial muscles:

“Fy faen, I didn’t expect that.”

“Told you it was a funny movie,” Jordan said with a wink.

Håvard put his laptop back on the table and chuckled:

“It definitely was. That scene with the old man, the one who had that deep British accent just killed me.”

“Yeah, that scene is awesome,” Jordan approved.

Håvard then sat back on the bed, and for a few seconds, both of them just looked at each other, faint smiles on their lips. Breathing in silence. Slumping against the wall, Håvard started to stroke Jordan’s back in light caresses, and Jordan let him. _So. It’s now, I guess?_ Håvard wondered.

“You know, I really like you, Jordan,” he began.

“I like you too. When you’re not being a bitchy diva.”

Håvard faked being offended, gaping at him, and Jordan chuckled, putting his hand on Håvard’s thigh to massage it:

“I’m joking, Håvard.”

“I know,” he replied while sitting straighter, his upper body just a few inches from Jordan’s. “And I like it when you say my name. Not many actually try,” he murmured.

“It’s a nice and original name. I had never heard it before.”

Håvard smiled, still stroking Jordan’s back with his hand, and feeling heat rising to his cheeks. He slowly started to lean forward, closing the gap between their faces, and only stopped when he saw Jordan’s eyes looking at his lips. Håvard questioned him with his eyes, and Jordan closed his, ending their non-verbal conversation.

Their lips met in a soft and plushy kiss. An inaudible moan escaped Håvard’s mouth, as he immediately deepened it, gently cupping Jordan’s stubbled cheeks in his hands to savor every inch of his peachy lips. Jordan’s hands wrapped around Håvard’s hips, then slowly slid onto his back; pulling him into a tight hug against him, while moving his lips against Håvard’s, in a wet and warm yearning.

They only parted away when they needed to take a breath. And Håvard smiled at the sight of Jordan’s drowsy silver eyes and his glistening pinky lips, while Jordan repressed his grin, lowering his head to conceal his blushing. Håvard couldn’t help but press a kiss to his forehead in the process. Then another one on his cheekbones. And a last one on his lips.

“I love you,” Håvard murmured, sticking his forehead to Jordan’s, letting his hands fall on his muscled shoulders.

But he felt Jordan’s shoulders tense, his body stiffening as his hands left Håvard’s back.

“W-What’s wrong?” Håvard stammered, worried he might have done something wrong.

“I’m sorry, “ Jordan sighed, his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry, I- I shouldn’t have.”

He stood up from the bed and walked towards the door.

“W-What? N-No Jordan, did I- did I do something wrong?”

Jordan grabbed his shoes with one hand and opened the door, his head lowered, a painful wince on his face.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Håvard. I- I can’t do this,” he added. “I can’t. I’m… sorry.”

And he really looked like he was – tears threatening to fall from his eyes, his face twisted in a pained wince. But when the door closed, Håvard still didn’t know why. He only knew one thing: he was now alone in his dorm, Jordan’s Cologne still in the air, his warmth still in his bed…

And Jordan didn’t want this. He probably didn’t want _him_. And though it was definitely not the first person to reject him…

Why did it hurt so bad?

_“And why is other people's opinion so important? Why is it up to them to "validate" whether you're a good person or not?” Harry asked, playing with his pencil._

_“I don't know. It's like that, isn't it? You're not humble if you say it yourself," Håvard replied with a shrug._

_“And what do your friends think?”_

_“My friends? I don't know. But my mother is encouraging and supportive, though she often tells me to stop bragging because I'll get the wrong kind of attention," he joked._

_But Harry seemed only half satisfied with the answer._

_“And what about your father?” he asked._

_“Never knew him. He left before I was born," Håvard replied with a shrug. "But the answer is no, Harry.”_

_“What do you mean, the answer is no?”_

_“No, I don’t have daddy issues.”_

_Harry couldn’t repress his chuckle:_

_“Well, don’t you think I’m more fit to decide of that?” he joked, before going serious again. “You know, there can be a lot of things related to the absence of a father. It varies from person to person. Some people can struggle for a long time, and spend a large part of their childhood looking for a paternal figure, getting in conflict with their mother. Others develop a more pronounced rejection of male authority than average. Others, on the contrary, seek to absolutely become the father figure and protect their mother, to be their little hero. Others-“_

_“I get it, Harry.“_

_“And what do you think?”_

_“You probably think I'm looking for attention like I would look for his attention. And that my desire for recognition is born from the experience of his abandonment. My way of saying that I do matter, and that I'm not disposable. Is that it?”_

_Harry chuckled, and slipped his pencil into the spiral of his notebook:_

_“The question is, what do you think?”_

Håvard sat down on his bed, laying a hand on his wounded heart, as he remembered why he protected himself so much behind his persona. Not just to get people's attention, to get their support, their approval, their love. But also to protect himself, to protect who he was underneath. So fragile.

So _fucking_ fragile.

The next morning, you didn't have to be psychic to notice that something was wrong with those two. Håvard seemed to carry a weight wherever he walked, even though he tried to keep a smile on his face and pretend that everything was fine - pretending was his thing, after all.

Jordan, on the other hand, was looking for a way to externalize all his emotions, and since he had free workout all morning before the afternoon scenario, he decided to head for the gym. Since it was still early in the morning, he managed to find an empty room with a tatami and some punching bags. It was too small and cramped for most martial arts or hand-to-hand practice, but enough for solo workouts. He put music on his phone and started to warm up.

He usually didn't like to be alone when he felt like that. He liked to have other people around to distract him, to take his mind off what was troubling him. But lately, it had become too much, and he didn't want to risk betraying his emotions in front of anyone. Yumi had started to notice his behavior change the day before, and he couldn't risk spilling his emotions anymore.

_Urgh and he was supposed to see Harry this week._

And Jordan knew he was a terrible liar. He couldn't fool Harry or lose him that easily. It was probably going to happen like last time: in a dull and closed silence until Harry agreed to change the subject. Honestly, Jordan just wanted to be left alone with his stuff. He didn't want to have to talk about Apha's accident anymore. His mother's. His sister's sickness... He wanted to be left alone, he wanted people to stop telling him that he needed help, because he _didn't_. It was his business; he knew better than anyone else what role he had in those past events, and he didn't anyone to question it.

He didn't want to be helped with his "guilt" because it wasn't a bad thing. It was _right_. It was normal to feel guilty after what he had done. Or rather what he _hadn't_ done. And it was normal to pay the consequences of his mistakes.

 _I love you_ , Håvard's voice echoed.

And Jordan stopped breathing, a violent burst of adrenaline discharging into his body like an electric shock. He clenched his fists and resumed his movements with more ardor.

 _That_ wasn't right. He couldn't do this, be in love; it wasn't right. After all he had done to the people he loved, he didn't deserve it. And he loved Håvard too much for that, to make him suffer. But also, Jordan would be devastated if anything happened to him. If Håvard was caught in an accident, in an uncurable sickness, in a shooting, if an operation went wrong... Apha and Yumi said it well: it was their job, the risks they had accepted. And there was a risk, _too much of a risk,_ that something happened to him. And if it did... If Håvard was killed or if...

Jordan grimaced at the kaleidoscope of horrors that flashed before his eyes. All the ways Håvard could die. A car accident. Mine explosion. Bomb explosion. Grenade explosion. Gadget explosion. Shot. Stabbed. Asphyxiated. Crushed. Skull fract-

He heard the door opening, and saw Twitch in sportswear with her bag over her shoulder.

"Oops, sorry, didn’t know you were here,” she said. “Can I practice here, though? Too many people in the other rooms.”

Jordan nodded his head reflexively and turned off his music.

"Sure.”

Emmanuelle smiled, her face radiant, as usual, and put her bag down a little further from him, taking out her water canteen and tying her hair in a high ponytail.

"How are you?” she asked, seeing him taking a break to grab his own canteen.

"Fine, and you?”

“I’m alright, though I would have preferred to sleep one more hour," she joked. “Did you see Håvard by the way? He looked a bit tired and… strange.”

Jordan didn’t answer, closing his canteen, and Emmanuelle was surprised by his silence.

"You know something?” she insisted.

"Hm... n-no, I don’t” Jordan answered clumsily.

"I mean, you two are pretty close, so perhaps… ?”

_Don't tell her. Don't tell her. Don't tell her._

"Maybe he just didn't sleep well?"

Emmanuelle clearly didn't seem convinced, and Jordan felt obliged to muddy the waters a bit.

"And he had a fight with Kali yesterday afternoon. He told her that she didn't trust Rainbow enough and that she had to stop getting uptight at the slightest dialogue. He was uncomfortable after that, but when we talked about it, he seemed okay.”

"So you talk to each other again?”

"Hum... we never stopped." Jordan lied.

Emmanuelle frowned, but couldn’t help a chuckle:

"Jordan, you really are a terrible liar.”

"We had a fight last week over... some bullshit," he sighed. "But we made up yesterday.”

Emmanuelle looked at him while tilting her head sideways, and asked him:

"Sorry if it's a bit direct, but I've been wondering for some time... is there something going on between you two?”

And Jordan widened his eyes, freezing like a deer caught in a trap.

"Um... it's... complicated. We... We... Urgh... " Jordan went to sit against the wall and Emmanuelle slowly moved closer to him.

Jordan took his head in his hands and grunted. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to show all this, but the words were coming out on their own, by themselves, spilling over. _Everything_ was spilling out. But Emmanuelle was a trustworthy person after all. She was his friend, almost _a sister_. But then she was going to lecture him, like Yumi, like Eliza and worry about him... But perhaps she could help, she was in a relationship with Caveira after all, and...

"Can I ask you a question?" he muttered.

"Of course," she answered, sitting next to him.

"You and Taina… How did you know that it wasn't just the military life, being always together at the base? And... aren’t you afraid? Of what might happen to her? On a mission, on an operation...?”

Emmanuelle looked at him with fondness and compassion, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. And the contact was pleasant, kind and warm.

"I didn't know it right away, it happened naturally. We liked to spend time together, just the two of us, you probably remember, you used to make jokes about it," she recalled with an amused smile. "And then we started doing things as a couple, like watching movies together, going out downtown, texting each other when we were separated and... one day when I came back from my leave in France, we realized how much we had missed each other and how much we both wanted to take it further.”

"But then you weren't afraid to... to get attached and that... given our job, something happens?”

"Of course I was afraid of all this, and I still am. Why do you think I dragged my ass all the way to the depths of Bolivia last year?" she joked. "But... we only have one life, and if something happens because life is indeed full of accidents and hazards, at least I would have lived it to the fullest, without regrets. And today, I’m happy, I love her, she loves me, and... we’re happy, quite simply.”

"But if something happens tomorrow...?” he couldn’t help insisting.

"Then I'll be devastated. But I would have been devastated either way, whether we were together or not. Except that in one case, I would have had all this happiness to have lived with her. And you only have one life: if you deny yourself all happiness for fear of losing it... then you will never be happy, right?”

Jordan sighed, readjusting the wraps on his hands.

"Sounds logic... " he sighed. "Sorry for breaking the mood.”

"Don't worry, I understand,” she said. “You seem to really care about him, huh?”

"I guess... ”

Emmanuelle continued to massage his shoulder with affection, and eventually told him:

"Jordan, you know you deserve happ-“

But suddenly, the siren of the base went off, and the two operators suddenly got up. Ash's voice echoed through the speaker:

"Alpha Squad, you have five minutes to reach Arsenal B2. Emergency deployment imminent. This is not an exercise. I repeat: Alpha Squad, you have 5 minutes to reach Arsenal B2. Emergency deployment imminent. This is not an exercise.”

Emmanuelle and Jordan exchanged an alert look, and immediately left the gym, leaving their belongings behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D 
> 
> I’m sorry it took me years to publish this chapter, but I couldn’t mess up their first kiss haha (I have written like 6 versions of it!). I also cut some superfluous parts for fear of wandering too far from the main plot, but I left the "small feet" part because it made me laugh. That's because when I started playing the game, I thought that many 3D models had small feet, including Thermite, and found it kind of cute though it's probably not the case haha. 
> 
> Also, next chapters will probably take me as much time to finish and edit (1 week) because there's a loooot going on in them haha So I’m sorry if updates are getting slower.  
> And heads up, next chapter is entitled _Boom Boom_... Just sayin’ ;)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! Let me know <3


	9. Boom Boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squad Alpha is deployed on a counter-terrorist operation.  
> And that's the moment Thermite's demons chose to appear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, I f*cked up. Chapter is +7k words long. So I’m cutting it into two to keep on schedule and ventilate the tension. This one will be more military action-driven.  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing / inaccuracies.

Standing in the helicopter, Ash was holding on to a bar, as she explained the situation in a loud and clear tone, conveyed to them through their headsets.

"We have a Level 1 alert in London, at the offices of the popular newspaper _The British Echo_. At 0751, armed men wearing white masks arrived in vans and killed the two security guards and took the employees hostage. The police are already there, and the SAS is currently being deployed and should arrive shortly. The assailants have not yet made their demands known, and the police are waiting for the arrival of the special forces to begin any negotiations and keep gathering as much information as possible in the meantime.

The Ministry of Defense contacted NATO to call for a Rainbow squad, given our expertise in the White Masks crisis and global diplomatic issues. We have received the first documents concerning the configuration of the place and the potential location of the terrorists and their hostages, as well as their numbers. Our role on site will primarily be to coordinate with the SAS and the police, with the following steps: designation of a negotiator, intel gathering, development of an assault strategy. Do you have any questions?”

"Do we already have information on their arsenal?” asked Monika.

"The surveillance video revealed AK-47s but was destroyed before we could find out more.”

"Do we know what language they spoke?” she asked next.

"Not yet, the sound of the video is being processed by the police and the security company.”

"How many SAS operators were called in?" then asked Gilles.

"3 units: about thirty people."

The operators continued to talk with Ash while Jäger took them to the theater of operation. After several minutes, they were all focused on their tablets, recording as much information as possible, sometimes receiving real-time updates.

Almost all of them had already put on their balaclava, keeping their helmets between their legs to minimize the weight on their neck. You never knew how long you were going to keep it on in operations like these. Sometimes you could wait for hours or even whole days, the time to get the necessary intel, the time for negotiations, the right window of action... but you never had to let your guard down meanwhile, because in one moment, everything could turn upside down.

But they were ready. They had been doing this for years, training for this, _living_ for this. Gilles and Emmanuelle had once told them about the motto of the GIGN: "S’engager pour la vie" (To enroll for life) and the subtle double meaning. To enroll for life, in the sense of a forever moral commitment, no matter the situation, the hour of the day, the place. And to enroll for Life; for the lives of others, for the lives of innocent people caught up in the tumult of battles that were not theirs.

The helicopter fell into a strange silence, letting the mechanical purr dress the atmosphere. Everyone was concentrated; all the drama, their affairs, had remained at the base. Jordan and Håvard exchanged a few thoughts from time to time, about where they could breach, about the composition of the walls of the building. But it wasn't Jordan and Håvard; it was Thermite and Ace talking. Jordan and Håvard had stayed at the base. And so had Emmanuelle, Monika, Gilles and Eliza. Now, they were Rainbow.

When they arrived, their helicopter landed on a nearby roof marked as a temporary helipad. They joined the police and the SAS that had just arrived, leaving Ash, Montagne and the respective unit commanders to discuss the situation. And soon everyone was updated: the terrorists were indeed White Masks, presumably 8 in number, and were holding between 30 and 42 people hostage. No further shots had been heard and no attempt to communicate had been made. The hostages were likely being held upstairs and some were seen closing windows and curtains.

Twitch was associated with the SAS technical intelligence team, who began to position various devices in the field and drone the area. Monika was in charge of the negotiations, as she had been trained for that, assumed this role several times with the GSG9, and was a woman - which often diminished the aggressiveness of male terrorists.

But everything accelerated with a piece of information. Just one.

"Code Red!" cried one of the SAS men. "There's a bomb upstairs. The explosive charges are such that the whole building could explode if it was detonated. Twitch, do you see a ticking clock?”

"Negative. The White Masks are still installing it," she said, continuing to drone as quietly as possible. "It's a detonator bomb but could easily be turned into a time one, I see a dedicated location. It's professional equipment.”

They had to move forward. Start the negotiations. Perhaps these hostages were only human shields for a limited time; just for the time to properly install the bombs. They had to get an answer and quickly. Why were these people being held hostage: to gain time, to make examples, to frighten, as a counterweight to possible demands?

Having no telephone or internet contact with the terrorists, the police and the SAS decided to start negotiations, leaving Monika to speak on the megaphone:

"Sirs, I am a negotiator for the SAS. We are trying to get in touch with you to discuss the situation, can you answer us?”

But there was no terrorist response. Not even a reprisal, nothing, as if they didn't hear them. Monika continued:

"Sirs, we wish to discuss and avoid any gunshot, on your side as well as on ours. Can you please reply peacefully and express your intentions?”

But still nothing. Monika then proposed several mediums of discussion to the terrorists, according to the instructions of the SAS and the police, but they responded nothing. Nevertheless, Twitch's drone, still upstairs and hidden out of sight of the terrorists, picked up Monika's requests with its microphone - a sign that the terrorists could not _not_ have heard. But none of them were talking; they kept working on the bomb and it didn't augur anything good.

The unit commanders then decided to slowly move the first columns forward. Rainbow would go through the first floor while the SAS would go through the roof and the fire escape, each with a negotiator.

Gilles deployed his shield and each of his 4 teammates lined up in column behind him, as they started to move slowly forward, communicating in real time with the SAS units with perfect fluidity.

"Groundfloor clear, Rainbow over.”

"Roger that," replied the SAS commander. "Progressing through yellow towards Charlie, Oxford over."

Rainbow continued to advance slowly but steadily, and were the first to arrive at the barricaded rooms. Twitch hid, to take control of her drone and verify the location of the terrorists, and when she indicated their positions, IQ resumed negotiations:

"Sirs, can you hear me? I’m the negociator.”

But there was no response other than moans and gasps from the hostages. She continued:

"Sirs, can you please answer? I simply wish to speak to you. We're outside and we don't intend to come in as long as we can talk.”

Then there was a conversation, picked up by Twitch's drone microphone. It sounded like a slavic language, but it was too slurry for her to clearly identify it. The terrorists were talking to each other, and Monika took the opportunity to insist:

"I’m a negotiator working with the SAS. We know that you are holding hostages and we wish to know what you intend to do," she said, deliberately omitting to mention the bombs.

"STAY OUTSIDE OR WE'LL KILL THEM ALL!" cried one of the terrorists.

But Monika didn't flinch:

"We don't intend to come in if we can talk,” she repeated. "Can you please tell us what do you want?”

"TO CONVEY A MESSAGE!”

"You wish to access the journal's resources to send a message about your movement?" she played the innocent.

"WE'RE GOING TO BLOW EVERYTHING UP! AND EVERYONE WITH US! FOR WHAT NATO DID TO OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS!”

Monika then whispered to Gilles:

"I know that tone. They have nothing to negotiate, they only want to cause terror.”

Gilles nodded his head and began to dictate future orders.

"IQ, save us some time. Twitch, find us a place to breach with Ace, we can't use Thermite’s charges so close to the hostages.”

He then indicated his plan to the SAS and the other units that stayed outside, and was given the green light to launch the assault.

"What movement are you part of?" continued IQ.

"THE WHITE MASKS. AND WE'RE GOING TO SHOW YOU THAT-"

The terrorist, charged with rage and adrenaline, continued to scream while everyone got into position. Montagne started to count:

"3... 2... 1, GO!"

Ace began to breach a side wall, while the SAS and the rest of Rainbow entered the room, forcing the barricaded doors open. Immediately, Ace and two members of the SAS grabbed the hostages through the breach and dragged them out of the room, ordering them to leave the floor and make their way to the exit.

Inside the room, it was a real battlefield. Two flashbangs erupted, and the terrorists were surgically shot down by the operators. The organized chaos lasted only a few seconds, but they were most struggling, and when the last of the terrorists was eliminated, the adrenaline had not diminished.

People had been wounded, both on the SAS side and on the hostage side... and a bomb had to be defused. Twitch immediately got to work with the SAS bomb disposal expert, while the other operators evacuated the hostages as quickly as possible.

After helping several wounded casualties to the exit, IQ and Thermite returned to the building, ready to go back upstairs to help the rest of the wounded, when they received an icy communication from Twitch:

"Second Code Red! I repeat, second Code Red!" she cried. "There's another bomb in the basement! One of the witnesses heard them talking about it, but he confirms that there are no hostages. There could be other terrorists left to guard it, we have no more information!”

In the tumult of orders and codes, announced alerts, Gilles anchored everyone back to reality, and told his squad:

"IQ, Thermite, change of plan, you're scouting in the basement. IQ, I want you to continuously communicate any information detected by your gadget. Don't enter into negotiations unless they initiate contact first. We'll join you as soon as we've evacuated the rest of the floor. Twitch, get to a safe place outside and drone the basement as much as possible. Ace, you and I need to get everyone out.”

Everyone responded positively.

"Thermite, wilco."

"IQ, wilco."

"Twitch, wilco. "

"Ace, wilco."

Monika and Jordan had done this in the past. It wasn't new, but it didn't stop them from carefully walking down the stairs full of the adrenaline and tension of knowing the building ready to explode at any minute. Especially since the terrorists had surely heard the shooting from upstairs, and the only reason they would not have detonated the bomb yet probably being that it was simply not ready.

Time was running out.

"East staircase, clear.”

"Elevator shaft, clear.”

"Green corridor, clear.”

But they found themselves at an impasse. The bomb was located in a thickly reinforced vault, probably housing archives and precious documents and goods. And given the position of the bomb, there was no chance that the structure of the building could withstand an implosion of this style. Monika grumbled upon seeing the heavy door, specially designed to resist external explosions which would probably slow them down.

"There must be a secret button, a combination, something!” she exclaimed as she scanned all the electronic materials with her gadget. “They can’t have gotten in by fucking magic.”

"Can you precisely locate the bomb? And the terrorists' cell phones?" Jordan asked.

"I'm trying, but the walls are thick... Try to figure out how to open that door until then.”

" _That_ I think I can handle.”

Monika did not question him further and sticking her gadget as much as possible against the concrete wall, managed to locate the bomb:

"It's huge, bigger than the one upstairs. It's going to blow everything up... And oh _SCHEISSE_ I'm sure it's already activated, I detect its voltage, it's going to explode any minute... There are three tangos at 3 o'clock, one is sitting against the wall though, it could be a civilian. And there’s another one at 10 o'clock and... Jo-Thermite, what are you doing?”

Jordan was sticking his brimstone charge not to the reinforced door, but to a flat portion of the wall.

"A new door.”

"H-here? But Montagne did not give the ord-"

"You said it yourself. It's going to explode any minute. Now, move away and brace yourself, it’s about to get hot.”

Jordan was about to activate his charge, so Monika rushed several meters away, jumping behind a piece of furniture and transmitting the plan to Gilles via radio. But when she saw that Jordan only moved back a few steps, she stopped and cried out:

"... Move away! You're too close! What the fuck are you doing?!"

He detonated the exothermic charge, and the blast shook him violently. Very violently. But charged with adrenaline, he projected himself forward, through the brand-new breach full of dust and plaster. With his M1014, he fired at the enemies previously announced by Monika, enemies who had not had time to react to the sudden explosion.

Everything happened as if in slow motion, Jordan felt like he was rocking on his side, as if he was falling, but he managed to shoot down each of the terrorists and Monika arrived in time to shoot the last of them with her AUG. When she reached the bomb and quickly took her tablet out, Jordan suddenly fell to the ground, his helmet hitting the hard floor of the room.

_Urgh d-did I slip?_

His ears hurt horribly, like a piercing pain in the entire canal to his brain, and he felt a warm liquid dripping from his eardrums and wetting his neck. He tried to get up, clinging with his left hand to the metal shelf while he still held his shotgun in his other hand and tried to stagger to Monika, who was crouched at the bomb with her tablet, looking both concentrated and frightened.

Caught in violent dizziness, Jordan clung to the shelf, trying to keep an eye on the exit in case more enemies arrived, even though he could barely stand. The light from the bomb switched off and Monika put her tablet down. She pressed on her radio but did not speak.

_Or perhaps she had spoken, and he hadn't heard?_

She then rushed to him and Jordan finally let go of the shelf, falling heavily with all his weight and his equipment. She tried to break his fall by grabbing his armpits, but the next second he was lying on the floor. Monika had lowered her throat cover and was moving her lips. Jordan had trouble fixing them, but he understood something: she was talking, and he couldn't hear.

_He couldn't hear anything._

He probably fainted at some point, because when he opened his eyes again, Gilles and Håvard were kneeling next to him. He still couldn't hear anything, but felt their hands searching him, probably looking for injuries. Gilles and Håvard were talking with each other, but Jordan didn’t catch the slighted vibration. He tried to concentrate on Håvard's unmasked and more familiar lips, but he couldn't find anything intelligible, as his eyes were losing their focus every second - like if they were rolling in their sockets.

Håvard was talking to Gilles with a worried look on his face, and Jordan wondered if there had been a tragedy up there, if there had been other enemies on the way, if civilians had been injured, if there had been another bomb other than the one Monika had just defused...

He tried to articulate:

"Any other wounded?”

He couldn't even hear himself speak, so he tried to speak louder but not hearing his own voice disturbed him deeply: he felt the vibrations in his throat but... nothing else, and it started to make him panic. It wasn't the first time he'd been shaken by an explosion blast, he'd had temporary hearing loss, like during the Bangkok accident, but it had never felt so deep, painful and... this silent.

Håvard and Gilles must have heard him as they refocused on him. Gilles shook his head, meaning that no other wounded were to deplore, and Jordan clumsily raised his hand to give a thumbs up. Håvard didn't smile. And that's when Jordan realized he was in big trouble.

His two colleagues helped him get up and walk outside of the building on shaky and wobbly legs, his head heavy and dangerously dragging his body towards the floor on each step with a painful dizziness. But before they could get him on a stretcher, he collapsed in their arms and fainted again.

But when he woke up later in the helicopter, it was chaos.

"Jordan, stay down!” Emmanuelle ordered him.

But nothing she could say reached his ears; he still couldn't hear a thing. And with the thick bandage around his head and ears, not sure he could have heard much anyway.

But Jordan was gesticulating too much. He wanted to sit up, didn't want to lie on the emergency medical bed. He was clinging to everything he could, while Emmanuelle and Håvard were trying to keep him down with reassuring gestures.

"I'm fine! I’m fine, guys!” Jordan cried in an unusually loud voice, as if trying to hear himself.

But no, he wasn’t. He wasn’t fine and was being irresponsible. He _had been_ irresponsible. When Monika had explained to them what had happened, Emmanuelle had bitten her fist. " _Merde_ , he really did it... "

"Jordan, that's enough!" she scolded him, trying to calm him down.

"I’m fine! Just let me sit!”

Håvard then took Jordan’s bandaged head in his hands and forced him to look at him, plunging his eyes into his own. His pupils were completely dilated.

"He's still in shock," he explained to Emmanuelle.

"No kidding," she sighed. "If he continues, you'll have to tranquilize him, for real, or he will hurt himself... again.”

Håvard sighed because he knew she was right, even though he would rather not have it come to that. Jordan's hands encircled his wrists, but he didn't try to take Håvard’s hands away from his face. On the contrary, it looked like he was clinging to him, making sure Håvard stayed with him.

"Jordan," Håvard called. "Jordan, can you please calm down?”

He had tried to articulate as much as possible so that Jordan could distinguish the main phonemes on his lips. Jordan looked at him with a serious look, but did not seem to understand. So, he repeated:

"Please stay calm. You need to lie down.”

Jordan's eyes began to tremble, and tears started to fill them. As he squeezed his eyes shut, they flowed down his cheeks, soiled by the plaster residue from the explosion.

"I can’t hear a goddam thing... I can’t... “ he sobbed, his voice strangled.

Håvard couldn't help but caress his hair with his left hand, trying to avoid his bandage as much as possible.

"It's okay, Jordan,” he tried to soothe him. “It's going to be all right... I'm sure of it.”

No, he wasn't sure of anything. But he wanted to; with all his heart. Even if he didn't have much hope for the repercussions of the accident. If Jordan miraculously came out of this without ear damage, he still would have to answer for what happened. He had acted in the middle of a very dangerous and serious situation without the approval of his squad leader, and had exposed himself to risks that a professional like him had no excuses to take.

That's when Håvard really understood how bad things were for Jordan. And he blamed himself. For not digging deeper behind his jokes and dodging smiles. For not seeing the signs earlier. For letting him put himself in danger like that...

"He seems to be calming down," Twitch whispered.

"More like he seems to have fainted again..." Håvard mumbled, gently placing Jordan's hands along his body, drying the tears from his cheeks with his thumb. He returned to his own seat and fastened his belt:

"What’s the ETA?” he asked.

"Roughly an hour," she replied.

He nodded his head in thanks and took off his gloves to put them in his pocket to make himself a little more comfortable.

"We did everything we could," she told him. "And I think Gilles will say the same, when he’ll be back at the base.”

"Yeah... Apart from the two security guards, no civilian casualties, right?”

"Just two in intensive care.”

Håvard looked at Jordan's closed face again with a worried look on his face.

"For him too," Twitch added. "For him too, we did everything we could."

"Why did he do this?” Håvard asked. "You heard what Monika said, why did he throw himself like that... into the blast... he did it on purpose. And I remember during practice, that's what Ash and Sam kept putting in his report, that he was too bullheaded, too reckless, and... Why?"

Twitch sighed sadly, shrugging her shoulders, her green eyes glistening with emotion:

"I guess it's a form of self-destruction."

"How can he inflict that to himself? Is he aware of... who he is? What he is? He's the sweetest guy I've ever met, the most selfless, humble, funny, kind-hearted and-"

For a moment, he thought he had said too much, under the influence of his emotions, and stopped. But Twitch gently smiled at him:

"I know," she said reassuringly, "I know about you two.”

Håvard rolled his eyes with sadness and frustration.

"Yeah, no, it’s not like that... he doesn't want to. And I can't blame him.”

Twitch leaned forward and stretched her arm to give him a gentle squeeze on his knee:

"I can't speak for him, but I think he likes you way too much to risk dragging you into... his destuction. He's afraid something could happen to you. Of losing you. Of not being there. Just like for his mother. For his sister. Or even Apha.”

Håvard ran a hand through his blond hair, which was still weirdly shaped from wearing his helmet, and let his hand fall back to his tensed neck in a sigh.

"Our story… doesn't matter, right now. What can we do for him? I just want him to get better.”

Twitch settled back into her seat and shrugged:

"Well first, we need to heal his body. And then find a way to heal his mind. I'm sure Harry will help us. In any case, what he did can't go without consequences.”

"Do you think they... they could kick him out of Rainbow?"

"I don't think so. I hope not. He's helped in so many operations. He's the best tactical demolition engineer we have. And he's a keystone for Rainbow, if they fired him it would be... dramatic.”

Håvard pinched his lips and squeezed his eyes. He didn't want to imagine it. He he had become so attached to Jordan that... being separated from him would shatter his heart once more. And he knew it wasn't healthy, because Jordan didn't want him, but... he just couldn't help it.

"I'm sure Harry and Eliza will do everything they can to keep him here," added Emmanuelle. "So, the decision is more in Jordan's hands. Is he willing to face the situation and go through this to stay? Or will he give up and... leave Rainbow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \o/  
> This is it :D Thanks for reading.  
> Next chapter shouldn't take too much time, as it was this chapter's second part.  
> I hope you liked this chapter, anyway :') Please lemme know what you thought <3


	10. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The accident had everyone worried sick.  
> Thermite finally understands he can't keep on like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing / medical inaccuracies (I did my best, but eh, fanfiction)

It had been 3 days since Jordan hadn’t left Rainbow's medical wing. After the accident, he was flown to the base in emergency to avoid civilian hospitals. Doc had immediately taken charge of him, while the news of the accident quickly spread in the base. His life was not in danger, at least. But it was still impossible to tell how damaged was his hearing.

As he was walking, Håvard realized he had started biting his nail again. He wanted to try nail art and make smileys on his nails for Instagram, but well, it wasn’t a success. Moreover, he hadn't posted anything substantial on his networks for a long time, and his fans were getting worried. Some had asked him if it was related to his coming out, if something had happened to him. But then... how to tell them, and where to start?

He had hesitated to tell his mother. He had spoken to her on the phone the day after the operation, but had cut it short, pretending to be tired.

On his way to the medical wing, he was surprised to hear shouts in the hallway. And the closer he got, the more he recognized the voice: _Ash's_ voice. And it came from Jordan's room, whose door was slightly ajar.

“OH?! YOU THINK THAT’S FUNNY?" she cried. “Jordan, you could have DIED!”

"Eliza, don't shout," Gustave asked her. "Even with the cortisone and the-"

"I know, but obviously he can't hear me when I speak normally and finds it funny!”

"Eliza..." Castle also tried to calm her down. “He’s just trying to-“

"No, let me finish! Jordan, you could have DIED. We’ve been telling you for MONTHS to stop getting so damn close to your fucking gadget! And you KNOW it! Like, what the actual fuck Jordan?! You're not stupid, and you're the expert, you KNEW this was going to happen, so why?! WHY?! What the fuck are you playing at?! Do you wish to- to- What if you-“

Her throat seemed to tighten around her words, and Håvard recognized the sound of a voice that was about to break with sobs. But Ash seemed to swallow her tears and continued:

"Jordan, do you have any idea how devastated we would be if something happened to you?! How devastated _I_ would be?! I WOULD BE TOTALLY WRECKED! Is that what you want?! We've lost enough people, we don't need to lose _YOU_! Can you just imagine Emma? Jack? Yumi? Mike? Monika? James? ... even Ace! Everyone would be devastated, Jordan. So, if you can't stay alive and safe for yourself, can you at least do it for us?! I-I... Jordan, you're not okay. You’re sick. Please, just listen to us for once and... and… "

Her sentence muffled into a sniff, and Håvard heard her walk towards the exit. He quickly stepped aside and let her open the door wide. She noticed him, her face red both with anger and sadness, and said to him:

"Just in time! Go shake him up, and show him that there are people who care about him!”

She clenched her fists and headed for the exit. Castle left the room and went after her, giving Håvard a sympathetic look before disappearing with Ash.

Håvard then passed his head through the door, knocking gently, and Doc turned to him, sighing:

"Please don't tell me you've come to yell at him too, I think I'm the one who'll end up with broken eardrums by the end of the day.”

"N-No, sorry I just... wanted to... come by and see... how it was going.”

But Jordan obviously hadn't heard him. He had his head down, in his hands, his fingers pulling at the roots of his dark hair, tugging a little at the intravenous cables in his arm.

Doc gently patted Jordan's shoulder, who quickly raised his head, his gray eyes glistening with tears and circled with dark hues. Doc motioned for Jordan to look at him, and asked him in a loud and clear voice:

"Should I let Håvard stay, or do you want to be alone?”

Jordan seemed to hesitate but finally shook his head and lay down under the cover. And the answer was clear enough.

"Right." Håvard sighed as he walked out of the room.

He was going to close the door behind him, but Doc held it and joined him in the hallway. Håvard was surprised, especially since Doc had more or less been avoiding him since the loadout affair, but let him follow him.

"Listen, Håvard," Doc began with his strong French accent, "it's just... everyone is on edge after what happened. You probably ran into Eliza on the way.”

Håvard sighed, stopping in the hallway and relaxing his shoulders:

"Doc, it's okay, I'm not going to make a fuss. I just came to see if he was okay, that's all.”

"Don't take it personally. That he didn't want to talk to you, I mean.”

"I can't blame him.”

"He and Eliza have known each other for years, even before Rainbow. She rarely loses control like that and... it's a lot. And he's still fragile, with all the medication, his hearing that still hasn't fully returned... he's not in his normal state. It's not against you.”

"Thanks Doc, but it doesn't change anything.”

Doc sighed and admitted:

"He asked about you.”

Håvard raised his eyebrows and tried to conceal his surprise, with not much success.

“He did?”

"Yes. He asked if you weren't hurt, and how you were.”

"Knowing him, he probably asked that for everyone.”

"He’s been asking about you every day. Every _single_ day.”

"What is that supposed to mean?”

"I don't know, you tell me!" Gustave groaned at his cluelessness. “All I’m saying, is that he was worried about you and it proved my point: his refusing to see you was not against you.”

Håvard deeply breathed out, and cracked his neck, trying to regain his composure.

"... and how is he, anyway? How's his hearing?"

"There’s been a small improvement since yesterday, but it's not coming back fast enough for me. We still have time before declaring the damage as definitive, and with the treatment, he has everything he needs to heal. But I'm still not ruling out a tympanoplasty.”

"Do you know if... if Rainbow would... keep him even though he's lost part of his hearing? He might not be good for the medical aptitude test anymore...?”

Doc pinched his lips.

"Whatever happens, I'll negotiate as best I can. Lately we've been able to relax the criteria for people like Vicente or Nienke, but I don't have the FBI's medical criteria in mind. It'll depend on that too, in the case where his hearing doesn't properly come back, and he has to... wear a hearing aid.”

Håvard nodded softly, and Doc sighed again:

" _Putain_ , Jordan... We didn’t need this…”

"I-I’ll let you go back to work then," Håvard mumbled, feeling the atmosphere filling with sadness again.

"Yeah, you’re right," Doc said. “Can’t wait to finish training the medic recruits, to go back to scenarios.”

Håvard smiled softly, remembering that Doc was not only a medic, but also a soldier.

He left the infirmary in a worse state than the one he had entered in - and he hadn’t thought it possible. Because despite what Doc had told him, and even though he knew he hadn't arrived at the right moment... Jordan didn't want to see him. He hadn’t said a word. Not even a "not now" that could have implied a "later".

And at the same time, Håvard couldn't blame him: Jordan was still heavily medicated, injured, exhausted, and Eliza had probably hurt him badly with her words. But she was right though... Why was Jordan self-destructing so much? Was he aware of the people who loved and cared for him? Did it have something to do with his guilt and survivor syndrome?

Håvard, completely lost in thought, almost ran into someone in the hallway. He stepped aside at the last moment and apologized:

"Oops, sorry.”

"Hey. I was looking for you."

It was Jaimini. Although smaller than him, she looked at him with her usual authority, her hands buried in the pockets of her black treggings, her spine straight.

"Hej," replied Håvard, not knowing which tone to use since their argument.

Jaimini then let her facial features loosen, and patted Ace's biceps affectionately.

"I know it’s been several days, but I just wanted to say... I’m sorry about your boyfriend. I hope he gets better soon.”

"He's not my boyfriend," Håvard sighed with a shameless sadness. "But thank you.”

She raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by his negation, but continued:

"And I also wanted you to know that... we are currently revising the contract with Rainbow.”

"Oh?" he blurted with surprise. "In what sense?”

Because knowing Jaimini, it could be a good thing – or a very bad one. Did she want to limit their collaboration again? Was she about to send her agents away? To send _him_ away? From the base? From Jor-

She smiled and replied:

"In the sense that I want to push for a more horizontal collaboration and a less... customer-ish one. They will have the right to access the blueprints of our gadgets, and conversely, they will be able to include you in special trainings partially funded by NATO. And I will properly declare that I will not work for the organizations they mentioned and... Well, I’ll pass on the details, you get the idea.”

"It's... it's great," Håvard uttered, a little shocked. "W-What happened?”

"Someone told me that to gain trust and move things forward with someone, you have to stop hiding things from them and be willing to open up.”

And Håvard sighed inwardly because even though Jaimini was obviously referring to _him_ , to their argument, he now realized something: it was Jordan's words, behind that. Jordan who had told him to open up, to show himself as he was, rather than play on several sides and maintain a persona that didn't suit him.

Was Jordan not done helping people, even indirectly?

_God, I love him so much it fucking aches._

"Well, had I known those were the magic words!" Håvard joked to chase away his sadder thoughts.

Jaimini gave him a gentle punch in the arm, and smiled:

" _Aaand_ Monika would have eventually gutted me, had I kept my position regarding the blueprints.”

"What happened to ‘no fraternization with Rainbow's ranks’ from the very beginning, huh?" he teased her.

"Erf, let's just say I realized that sometimes, fate is what it is, and it's much more pleasant to work with it, than flailing in the air.”

"I'm happy for you," Håvard admitted. "You and Monika... it's going to be something.”

And for a moment, Håvard thought he saw pink on Jaimini's cheeks.

"We'll see where this takes us," she replied with a discreet smile. "But you know, despite everything I've said about him... Jordan's not bad either. He's a good soldier, a loyal man, and you can tell he's... he's good for you. You've changed since you’re here.”

"In a good or bad way? Because I gained weight, you know.”

They started laughing and Håvard realized that it was the first time in a _long_ time they shared a good laugh together. She eventually patted him on the shoulder:

"Well, I need to go. I have to tell the news to a certain German blond genius.”

"You bet.”

And as she walked away, carried by some positive waves, Håvard just stood there, in the middle of the hallway. His gaze fell to the ground. Thinking of _someone._

At the end of the same hallway, in the medical wing, Jordan was still in his bed – lost in gloomy thoughts. He was wrecked, shattered, in pieces, and alone - alone with his grief and his demons, which he was seeing way too closely for his liking. He hated hurting the people he loved, and Eliza had been so angry and worried about him. Her words kept resonating, adding to his headache.

Still, he didn't dare bother Doc and ask him to renew his intravenous pain medication, and he knew it was wrong. She had said it well: he was unable to take care of himself. But he never thought anyone could be _that_ worried, that _she_ would be so angry, so sad and... he had spent so much time convincing himself that he wasn't legitimate, here in Rainbow, but also in this life, that Eliza's words were turning everything upside down.

And then there had been Håvard's soft yet tired and worried face. Håvard, who despite what Jordan had done to him, would come back to check on him and see if he was okay. And Jordan had wanted only one thing: to take him in his arms, hold him tight and soak his shoulder in tears. Kissing him and lying down with him, hoping to lose himself in comfort. Asking him for forgiveness. Telling him everything, because he knew that despite what happened, despite his silliness, and even though they had known each other for less than a year; there was something strong between them. Something strong, yet soft, comforting and reassuring. Something… special. Precious, even.

 _So why did you push him away?_ Why is it that every time someone wanted to hug him, he couldn't help dodging or refusing, in spite of the absolute desire he had to do so?

A tear ran down his cheeks again and fell on his burnt hands. Then another one. He sniffed and wiped his nose in his medical pajamas, and almost jumped when he suddenly became aware of a bulky shadow at the door.

It was Mike. Jordan hadn’t heard him enter, just like he still couldn’t hear most of the sounds around him. He quickly wiped his eyes, even though Mike had seen them, considering how his eyebrows were knitted together with worry and compassion. Mike came in, and sat at the bottom of his bed, putting a gentle hand on Jordan’s shin hidden under the blanket.

"Hey." Mike whispered.

Jordan motioned for him to speak up. Mike nodded his head with a slightly sorry look on his face, keeping his eyes on Jordan, and said in a louder voice:

"Are you all right, my boy?"

Jordan sniffed, shrugging his shoulders; looking up at the ceiling in the hope to stop more tears from falling.

"I don't know," he dared say for the first time in years. "I don't think I am.”

Mike pinched his lips and gently massaged his ankle.

"You need to get some rest, Joe. Did Doc mention how long it will take you to recover?"

"A good month. But I... they don't know yet if... if it's... if it's going to come back properly. My hearing.”

"Look on the bright side, you're finally going on your bloody leave, right?” Mike said in a light tone.

"I don't have a choice.” Jordan sadly muttered. “Harry and Eliza... they're right. I have to do something, I can't keep on like this. I'm a danger to others and I’m such a mess... it can't go on.”

Mike let a silence fall. He wasn’t good at comforting people. Listening, he could do, especially for those he cared for - but finding the right words, the soothing ones, the ones that could help someone open up and free themselves… He sighed, and asked:

"You're considering going back to Texas?”

"I’ll try to. I need to contact my brother-in-law and... I hope he’ll forgive me the long silence and let me see... the kids. They're the only family I have left, and I...” Jordan hitched a breath and finally admitted:

“Mike, I'm terrified.”

A tear rolled on his cheek, and Mike tightened his gentle hold on his shin.

"Hey, it's going to be okay, Joe. I know what you're talking about, I... you know me, right? I've been through this before.” Mike awkwardly started to tell. "And one thing I can tell you for sure, is that whatever happens, it's going to be a good thing; it’ll help you move on. We're so locked in here, in a different life, cut off from the world and... the people out there, our family, they live in a whole other world. They don't think like we do. And they miss us. They miss us a lot more than we think. And civilian life... we forget about it so much that we cling to memories. Sometimes we even create false bridges, we imagine things that never happened, we imagine all the things they could be thinking about us, how they blame us while in fact, they think none of that. But you have to confront that reality, to see it as it is and free yourself from that.”

Jordan softly nodded his head, sniffing. Mike stood up to grab a box of tissues from the other side of the room, and sat back, offering it to Jordan who accepted it with a chuckle.

"How long has it been since you've seen them? In the flesh, I mean.” Mike asked.

"Something like two years. The last time was... at my sister's funeral."

"And you haven't been back to Texas ever since?”

"Nope.”

"So, you remember Texas more as the place where you lost your family, rather than the place where you grew up and loved them?”

Jordan wiped his nose, refraining from blowing it as Doc had instructed him because of his ears, and chuckled a bit:

"You should assist Harry," Jordan joked. “You’re getting good at this shrink thing.”

"What do you want, huh?" Mike snorted with a smile. "I've spent most of my life with broken men, I'm starting to see the bloody patterns.”

"Thanks anyway," Jordan admitted.

Mike patted his leg gently and straightened up:

"So, Texas it is?”

"Texas it is."

"You'll bring me back a cowboy hat, huh?”

Jordan smiled but didn’t answer. Lowering his gaze upon his hands, he softly repeated for himself:

_Texas it is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : D
> 
> Alright, those kinds of chapters are just so hard to write because it's like "C'MON, JUST HUG ALREADY!" haha  
> I hope you liked it :) 
> 
> Also, also, also, I have a question. Thing is, I could end the story in 2-3 chapters with this final narrative arc.  
> But, I could also add _another_ dramatic arc, which would make the story properly end in 3-4 chapters.  
> I still haven't made up my mind, so I'm curious about your opinion: "enough drama, let's end their sufferings" or "there's never enough drama"? haha 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading and still being here <3 Lemme know what you thought :')


	11. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thermite leaves the base and goes back to Texas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :D Thank you everyone for your absolutely sweet comments on last chapter <3 You guys are the fuel for this story :')  
> This chapter is more Thermite-centric, and way calmer. I think.  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing / Texan inaccuracies.

Two days later, it was roughly 8AM when Jordan came out of his dorm with his baggage. Jack had helped him pack everything and Jordan had put on his civilian clothes. He was wearing faded jeans, his Timberlands, a thick plaid shirt, and a parka he kept open for the moment. Winter was slowly coming, and it was cold outside. At least it would be warmer in Texas.

_In Texas._

"You didn't forget anything?" Jack asked in a loud voice to make sure Jordan heard him.

Jordan reached for his pockets, opened his shoulder bag while thinking through his mental checklist.

"No, I've got everything. My papers, my tickets, my phone, the special earplugs for the plane... no, I think I'm good.”

"Great. Yumi is waiting for us in the parking lot, let's go.”

"Wait, just gimme a minute... I won't be long.”

Jordan left his bag on the floor and trotted across the hall to reach Håvard’s dormitory. He took a deep breath, raised his fist to knock on the door and stopped.

… He didn't know what to say. Håvard hadn't come back to see him and they hadn't had a chance to talk since... the event. And Jordan didn't want to leave on that. He was going to leave the base for a whole month, and he didn't want to... he just wanted to see him one last time and say something. Just something. Maybe give him a hug? Apologize for everything and promise that they'll talk and tell him that he lov-

Jordan squeezed his eyes and knocked on the door. He didn't hear anything, but with his lost hearing he didn't know if it was just him or if there was indeed no one on the other side. He knocked again, and this time, he tried to utter:

"H-Håvard? It's Jordan.”

But no answer. Not even a vibration under his feet that could have indicated footsteps behind the door. Nothing at all. Jordan looked at his watch: surely Håvard was already up, and Emmanuelle had told him that she hadn't seen him at breakfast, so Jordan had thought he was in his dorm getting ready for the day, or sending messages on his social networks.

Jordan knocked again, but finally resigned himself to the idea that unless he met him on the way… he wouldn't get to see Håvard.

A hand dropped on his shoulder and he jumped at the contact; he hadn’t heard the person walking behind him.

"He doesn’t seem to be there," Jack said. "Do you want me to send him a message on the intra?”

Jordan pinched his lips.

"N-No, never mind, I... he knew I was leaving today. I’m nearly sure he did. So, well. We'll talk when I come back, I guess.”

Jack smiled with compassion, and patted him affectionately on the back.

"It's gonna to be okay, buddy.“

"Yeah, I hope so." Jordan sighed as he took his bag from Jack's hands.

As he got into the cab, he felt a pinch in his heart at the sight of the base disappearing in the rearview mirror. He squeezed his bag against him, as if clinging to his military life. Clinging to Thermite - who he was leaving at the base.

"You're from the military base, aren't you?” the driver asked a little indiscreetly to make conversation. “You're going on leave to see your family?"

"Hum sorry, you were saying something? I didn't hear you." Jordan replied.

"Are you going on leave to see your family?” the driver said louder.

"Yeah, you could say that." Jordan muttered, as he watched the English landscape scroll by through the window.

The driver didn't insist, and Jordan was grateful for that. He had started fiddling with his hands and when he became aware of that, he stopped to take a deep breath. He closed his eyes for a while, remembering Yumi's relaxation and meditation exercises he had never really tried - and maybe this was the opportunity to remedy this and put them to good use.

After a second ride, with the special shuttle, he arrived at the airport. And his anxiety, temporarily relieved thanks to Yumi's exercises, slowly rose again and charged his heart with latent adrenaline. Because seeing so many people, so many civilians in an airport terrified him. It was so easy to strike an attack there and cause many casualties. All the White Masks would have to do was use their new gas, their latest biological weapon that Rainbow had discovered in a disused laboratory in Bulgaria, to turn the terminal into a hecatomb.

He stopped for a moment, and took a deep breath.

And to think that he was in an operation, dealing with a hostage situation in London just over a week ago. He hoped there would be no retaliation anytime soon, even though he trusted Bravo or Charlie Squad to take over. In fact, even his own squad could deploy without him, borrowing Hibana from Bravo if an explosive hard-breacher was needed - this was one of the reasons why the two squads often trained together. And thinking about Bravo, he quickly pulled out his phone, remembering that Yumi had insisted that he send her a message when he arrived at the airport.

Overall, Harry's instructions had been to disconnect as much as possible from the military, in order to _reconnect_ with the civilian, his homeland and his family, but that he could of course send a few messages to his close colleagues if he ever felt a need for moral support to face the next steps. And Jordan was determined to play by the rules. He knew that he had gone too far this time, that he had put too much aside, and let his problems rot inside him. He didn't trust himself to deal with it, to take care of himself - so now he trusted Harry, Yumi, Eliza, Emma and the others, and he would do what they told him, because he trusted them. More than he trusted himself.

[ **Jordan** ] _Just arrived at the airport. So many people. ‘Gives me goosebumps._ (sent)

And very quickly, came Yumi's answer:

[ **Yumiko** ] _Great. You made it earlier than expected_.

[ **Yumiko** ] _Don't worry about the people, everything will be fine and security is always more reinforced in these areas_ _😊_ _Safe travels_.

[ **Yumiko** ] _We love you_.

The last three words gave him the sensation of a big burst of steam: warm and invigorating. His first reflex though, was to avert his eyes from the message, but remembering Eliza and Emma’s words, he finally confronted it and gently stroked the words across the screen. _We love you._

The hardest part was still yet to come. But he wouldn’t back down. Not anymore.

Once he was settled in the plane with his special earplugs provided by Doc to protect his injured ears from the pressure changes, he started cogitating again. At least he had a window seat, which he secretly enjoyed. He had sent a message to his brother-in-law, Alex, a few minutes before to inform him that he was getting on the plane, and he had answered, despite the fact that it was 6:40 am in Texas:

[ **Alex** ] _Awesome! Can't wait to see you, Joe. Safe travels_ :fingers_crossed:

Honestly, Jordan hadn’t expected Alex to be so happy to see his message just two days ago. He hadn’t been sure where to start, and had just told him that he had been injured and needed to take some time off, and was thinking about going back to Texas. And after a few hours of disturbing silence, Alex had replied with a succession of smileys and offered him to come and stay with the kids and him during that time. He was still living in the house he had bought with Sophia – Jordan’s sister - 7 years ago, when she had left the army with the movement of withdrawal of American troops from Afghanistan.

He was just hoping Alex wouldn't be too angry with him. It didn't show up in his messages, but maybe he was still mad at him – he probably was. After all, Jordan had completely let him and his nephews down after the tragedy. He hadn't even been there when Sophia drew her last breath...

He squeezed his eyes, trying to hold on to Mike's words: "The people out there, our family, they live in a whole other world. They don't think like we do. And they miss us.”

The plane slowly started rolling towards the runway, a very fine rain smearing the window.

_See you soon, Hereford. And your shitty weather._

_I’ll miss you._

It took her some time, but at long last, Twitch finally found Ace. He was training at the back of the shooting range with an M1014. She calmly joined him and sat down on the bench further behind him. And obviously, even if he pretended not to have seen her, her presence was enough to distract him, since he put down his shotgun after emptying the magazine, and came towards her:

"What?” he blurted almost with aggressivity.

"What a pleasing way to say good morning, Håvard!" she joked.

He sighed and shook his head.

"I'm sorry. You needed something?"

"Someone. You. Jordan was looking for you before leaving."

Håvard kept a closed face, neutralizing any emotion that threatened to spill out.

"Hum, ok.”

"Didn't you want to see him? To say goodbye?”

"It's not dramatic, he's coming back in a month.”

"Håvard, stop it.”

"Stop what?"

"Stop pretending you don't care.”

He glared at her, his eyebrows furrowing, and crossed his arms.

"And what do you want me to say?”

"I don’t want you to say anything, but just don’t pretend you’re fine, when you’re not. We have a good example of where it leads people.”

Håvard came and sat down next to her, taking his protection glasses off, and sighed:

"I'm sorry. It's just... I'm... I'm so lost. And worried. I just hope he's going to be ok."

"So why have you been dodging him?"

"I don't know. I wanted to give him space and time. And I'm... I... he didn't want... me... Well, you know."

Emmanuelle opened her emerald eyes wide, and stared at him, gaping:

"You're hurt…" she murmured, as if realizing he had been bearing an injury all this time.

He scoffed, making a dismissing gesture with his hand.

"Nah, it's not that bad."

"I've been hearing this kind of bullshit for too long," she snorted.

"Yeah, but I don't know. My feelings aren't the most important thing, right now," he said. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"I wanted to check on you. If Jordan's not here to look after you, someone needs to make sure you stay out of trouble," she joked. "And besides, you're our squadmate, we can't just leave a friend moping around."

Håvard's heart skipped a beat.

Because Emmanuelle had just called him a _friend_.

He smiled.

After his long journey, Jordan was exhausted when he finally arrived in the Texan suburb of Plano. Many of his colleagues would be frankly astonished by this image of Texas - so urban, American, not picturesque at all. But Jordan hadn't grown up on a ranch with cows and horses, or on an alligator farm despite what some of his European or Asian colleagues joked about. He had grown up in Plano’s suburb, where housing was cheaper than in Dallas or downtown, and with his father’s death that plunged his family into moral and financial difficulty, he had never really known these large, picturesque expanses of land with animals and outdoor swimming pool. But he never felt like missing something either. He acknowledged he had a happy and good childhood, overall.

Their mother had always tried to take them for walks and outings as much as possible, taking them to the natural parks in the region, sometimes to look after animals on the ranch of friends from her Veterans’ Widows association because she knew Jordan and Sophia loved animals. In fact, it was Sophia’s dream to have pets. And her dream came true when Alex and her finally adopted a puppy from a shelter when life became steadier, in 2017. _Or so they had thought…_

Jordan stopped on the sidewalk to take off his parka: he was _burning_ from heat. Here, the autumn was much milder and the air less humid, just as he liked it. He had almost forgotten how distraught he had been back then, when he learnt that Rainbow's headquarters were in a shithole of the English countryside. He remembered complaining with Miles, while Jack was trying to cheer them up, and Eliza facepalming at Jordan’s whines.

He chuckled at the memory and surprised himself thinking again of Håvard, and how it would be to go to Norway with him. _A Norwegian, what an idea_ … _Why couldn’t he fall from someone from a warm country?!_ He then remembered Håvard’s almost exhibitionist tendency to walk around in a tank top at the base, as if he wasn't afraid of cool breezes or the British cold. Not to mention the time he had been walking around in his mere underpants to pick up his laundry and-

Jordan shook his head, folding his parka and tying it to his bag with an elastic cord. _Håvard..._ Maybe he should send him a message when he arrives? Just a small thing. Only to resume the dialogue. Even if Harry had told him to disconnect...

Or maybe it would be even worse, to resume conversation with Håvard remotely, by message - maybe it would be too frustrating, maybe it would lead to misunderstandings and...

Jordan's heart started beating louder as he gradually recognized the residences. Approaching Sophia's. Only one more turn and three more houses...

His legs carried him, mute and forbidden, to the gate. The fence had been repainted. In blue with awkwardly drawn, childish stars. Seeing no code to enter, he pressed the handle and was surprised to find the gate unlocked. As if it was expecting him. He closed it gently behind, to prevent any noise.

But in a corner of the yard, a shadow detached itself from a bush and ran towards him.

He got violently knocked by the animal and almost fell backwards.

"Wow! Easy there, easy!" he exclaimed as he dropped his bag and grabbed the overexcited dog by the joints. "I'm a good guy! I promise!”

The dog did not bark, but sniffed it abundantly while wagging its tail violently. And that's when Jordan recognized him, plunging his eyes into his black beads:

"Oh my God, _Cookie-dough_? Is that you?!"

The dog seemed to recognize him too, despite the years of separation, and jumped on him to lick his face. This time Jordan fell on his butt, stroking the dog energetically and rolling in the grass with him.

"Oh my God! You've grown so much, boy! You were just a nugget, but now you're a real chunk! You recognize me?!"

Jordan then heard the house’s main door open, and straightened up, despite the weight of Cookie-dough on his plexus. Alex's face appeared in the doorway, and lit up at the sight of him.

"H-Hey." Jordan murmured, while swallowing his saliva.

"Jordan, bro, come here!” Alex exclaimed as he walked down the stoop’s small steps.

Jordan stood up and was knocked again, but this time by Alex's body, which locked him in a strong embrace. Jordan hesitantly raised his arms, but eventually closed them around his brother-in-law, letting himself go.

"I'm sorry… " he whispered.

"I missed you so much, Jordan."

And there was something in that statement, in that familiar voice, that embrace… so nice and gentle. And Cookie-dough’s barking. The lawn beneath his feet. The warm Texas air. Something triggered, a conjunction of sensory events, and Jordan _burst_ into tears, holding Alex tight.

"I'm s-so sorry…” he choked.

"What for?" Alex worried. "Did something happen?"

"I'm sorry for everything. Sorry for not being there... This whole time. I abandoned y’all, and..."

Alex grabbed Jordan by the elbows and pulled him away to look at him straight in the eyes.

"What are you talking about, Jordan?"

"Everything. W-When Sophia... I wasn't there. I abandoned you and the kids, I fled like a coward and left you behind instead of being here, facing it with you, being with you and-"

"Jordan, let me stop you right there."

Jordan sniffed, staring at a spot between his feet. Alex gently squeezed his arms under his hands, and stared at him.

"Jordan why are you saying that? You were there."

"N-No, I wasn't."

"I... I don't get it, Jordan. You _were_. Maybe you weren't there the _moment_ she passed away, but you were there before and after that. You were there at the funeral. You organized it. You stayed two whole weeks to help me out with the house and the kids. You sent us most of your pays to help us go back on track. You phoned the kids almost everyday despite the time gap. You... Jordan, what do you mean you weren't there?"

But Jordan suddenly tensed.

Because he had forgotten.

All those things Alex was mentioning; it was as if he had lived them in another life and forgotten them… until now. But why?

Mike’s voice echoed: _Sometimes we even create false bridges, we imagine things that never happened... But you have to confront that reality, to see it as it is and free yourself from that._

"Jordan... You remember all this, don't you?" Alex worriedly asked.

Jordan wiped his nose with the cuff of his sleeve, not answering anything, Cookie-dough was nuzzling him in the thighs, begging for attention. Alex patted Jordan’s shoulder and grabbed his baggage:

"Come on, let's get inside. I was fixin’ to make some coffee. We have time before we go pick up the kids.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> This is it. I hope you guys liked it! As for the informal "poll" on last chapter, I really want to thank all of you for your comments, your encouraging words and confidence <3 As you may have seen, I have thus changed the number of chapters to... 14 :3 (I honestly didn't think I was able to write a slow burn _this_ slow haha)  
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Lemme know what you thought <3
> 
> \+ Next chapter will have a tiny bit of spice... :]


	12. Home Sweet Home?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thermite dreams about a certain someone during his last days in Texas.  
> He then goes back to Rainbow, where he's welcomed by unexpected news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Published a chapter yesterday and another one today, shattering my schedule to pieces.  
> But my mind couldn't rest till this chapter was published.  
> \+ As usual, sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

Jordan woke up softly, a curious summer light heating his eyelids. He rubbed his eyes with his fist and grunted, pulling the blanket to hide his face from the sunny light. But as he grabbed the sheet, he encountered resistance, a weight, and realized that a pair of arms were warmly encircling him. In fact, someone was _spooning_ him. He opened his eyes and stared at the arm around his bust; white with a few moles and familiar blond hair.

"H-Håvard?” he stammered. "Is that you?”

"Hmmmpf" grumbled Håvard in Jordan’s neck, his warm breath against his skin.

"W-What the hell are you doing here?” Jordan exclaimed.

He tried to straighten up on his elbow, and realized he was no longer in his room in Texas. That bed, with its white and turquoise sheets, wasn't his, and he didn't recognize the room either.

"Hmmmm I'm sleeping..." Håvard grumbled as he tightened his embrace, tangling one of his legs with Jordan's as if to imprison him, huddled up against him. “At least, I was, until someone started fidgeting... “

 _I'm dreaming_ , Jordan realized. _But it's so vivid; how is that possible?_

Jordan tried, despite Håvard's embrace, to turn around to at least face him. But as soon as he managed to, Håvard pulled him again in a tight hug, putting a generous and wet kiss on his lips, before resting his head against his collarbone and disappearing under the blanket, his blonde disheveled hair barely emerging.

"Don't tell me it's already time to get up... " Håvard mumbled. "I disapprove of this.”

"Time to... get up?” Jordan clumsily repeated.

Håvard pulled his head out of the blanket and plunged his blue eyes into his. He gently brought a hand to his face, and caressed Jordan's blushed cheek with a worried look on his face, his fingertips sending electricity through his skin.

"What's wrong, sweetie pie?” he asked with worry. “You’re acting weird. Are you sick or something?”

"I... um... I think I'm dreaming.” Jordan admitted.

Håvard chuckled, his eyes squinting and his smile stretching his pink lips.

"I'll take that as a compliment." He purred as he placed another kiss on Jordan's lips, before rubbing his head against his like a cat.

"N-No, really, Håvard. I'm dreaming. I'm not here.” Jordan tried to insist while getting assaulted by Håvard's overly affective gestures.

"Hmmm if you say so." Håvard replied, not taking it seriously. "So, enjoy your dream, huh? I'm not going anywhere.”

He accompanied his words with a quick peck on his lips, smirking mischievously at him. Håvard's hand then gently slipped from Jordan’s shoulder to his pecs, caressing the muscles of his bare skin, and sending electricity through his body as he grazed his nipple and went down to his belly button, till he reached the elastic band of his boxer shorts.

_Oh come on, why the fuck no?_

Jordan grabbed Håvard by the waist to roll him over on his back, and straddled him, throwing his lips onto his and snatching a hiccup of surprise from the Norwegian. Håvard immediately started caressing Jordan’s back, his hands slowly moving down his spine. Jordan moved his face away, surprised by the intimacy but also by the pure chemistry between them, and the warmth emanating from their contact.

"Hmmm... you seem to enjoy your dream very much." Håvard joked, stroking Jordan’s buttocks affectionately, his hands then resting on his muscled thighs.

Jordan couldn’t help caressing Håvard’s face, gently playing with his long blond eyelashes with his burnt index finger, captivated by his features. Håvard was lying still, a soft smile on his lips, his blue-eyed gaze fixed on him, his features relaxed and his lips moist from their kisses.

"You're so fucking beautiful... " Jordan murmured, while playing with Håvard's lower lip.

"Jordan, I don't know what's going on, but you’re starting to worry me.”

"I should have told you sooner. And I never should have done that to you, leaving you just like that, fleeing after what we... shared.”

"Are you still talking about the movie night? Jordan, I've already told you a hundred times that I've forgiven you. You weren't well." Håvard reassured him before running a hand through his dark hair, caressing his scalp. Jordan instinctively nuzzled his hand, closing his eyes. "Be a little indulgent with yourself, sweetie pie.”

"I had no idea how much I loved you..." mumbled Jordan while laying kisses on Håvard's warm palm.

"Music to my ears," purred Håvard with his usual smirk. "Now kiss me again. Pretty please."

Jordan didn't need to be asked twice. He leant forward to kiss him passionately, moving his wet lips against his, while sticking his chest to his. Håvard tightened his arms around his back, spreading his legs slightly apart to let Jordan stick close, and then swung him to the side to reverse the position.

And Jordan fell off the bed.

He broke his face in a jumble of sheets and swore profusely. And once he eventually got out of it, he was back in his room, in Sophia's house. And Håvard was gone. His blue eyes. His mischievous smile. His blond hair. His warmth and tenderness.

Jordan sat for a while, his feet still tangled in the sheets, massaging his temples to calm his mind too violently brought back to reality.

_So that really was a fucking dream._

He missed Håvard.

Only a few days left before he returned to Rainbow.

He was well rested. His hearing was better, although after several appointments with a local ENT specialist, to whom Jordan had given a series of papers provided by Doc, they had concluded that some of it was definitely lost. This was not enough to severely handicap him. But enough to miss snippets of discussion or turn up the TV. He would probably have to wear a hearing aid to make up for that, but after giving Doc the latest results, Doc had advised him to wait until he returned to Rainbow to order it through the organization to cut costs, and see how to fit it for the missions. Which was a good sign, regarding his medical aptitude for combat.

He took a deep breath, in and out, slowly, trying to relax his body, and finally got up. He made his bed and put on a jogging suit, before heading down to the kitchen. It was Saturday, so the whole family was usually sleeping in, but he was surprised to see Alex, who was already downstairs preparing breakfast, and Jenny, the younger, waiting at the table, stimming with a toy; scratching it and grinning at the produced sound. When she saw Jordan coming down the stairs though, she jumped out of the chair and threw herself into his arms:

"Uncle Jowdaaan!"

"'Morning, butterfly.”

She buried her head in his neck to giggle, then looked at him with a childish smirk:

"Does this mean I'm a fly made of butter?"

"More like a fly made of pancakes."

Alex turned around and smiled.

"Mickey should be coming down soon, I heard him go to the bathroom,” he told him. “Did you sleep well?”

"Like a baby," Jordan answered, putting Jenny back on the chair with a kiss in her hair. "And I had a dream... a weird dream."

"Oh, did you?” Alex replied with an astonished look, while handing him a clean ceramic mug. "You don't dream often.”

Jordan accepted the mug, and went to pour himself some coffee.

"No, not often indeed. But it was... so vivid, as if I was there.”

"Um, and what was happening?"

"How can I put it..." Jordan sighed, a little embarrassed. "Remember the guy I, um... I mentioned a few times?”

"You mean _Håvard?_ "Alex answered teasingly, serving Jenny pancakes and a glass of apple juice.

"Y-Yeah. He was in my dream. I mean, he pretty _was_ my dream. I think I... I think I miss him," Jordan murmured as he sipped his coffee. "D’you want me to take over, with the pancakes?”

But as soon as he got close, Alex slapped his arm gently to shoo him away from the stove.

"I think Uncle Jowdan is in love with Hoovad!" Jenny giggled between two bites.

Alex laughed:

"I think you're right.”

Jordan blushed and squinted his eyes at his niece:

"And what makes you say that, young lady?”

She was grinning candidly, her small teeth full of jam, and explained to him:

"When you talk about him you smile like a monkey. Like Dad when he talks about Mom.”

Alex and Jordan had a tender look for her, and then for each other.

They had had time to talk about her, about Sophia Trace. _War hero, sister, wife and mother_. A phenomenon that had left a deep emptiness behind her after the one and only defeat of her life: against cancer. The first days of Jordan’s return had been soaked in tears. Jordan's, but also Alex's, who of course remained highly emotional, for it had only been 2 years since he had lost the woman of his life. But with the two men reuniting again, something strong was born. They had shared their memories, the different points of view they had on certain events, and from this pooling, this gathering of memories, it was as if Sophia Trace had come back to life. As if she had just gone to the kitchen, or to the bathroom, to look for something, but was still there with them.

Not to forget those two surprisingly gray-eyed, and adorable little monsters, Jenny and Mickey. Alex was a true champion, and Jordan truly admired him. He had managed to get his head out of the water, grieve chastely and pull the family up. And that’s when Jordan really understood why Sophia had chosen him, Alexander Chen.

Because he had the same qualities as their mom - because she too had been able to pull Sophia and Jordan up when their dad was KIA in Iraq. Alex was a Trace, too. He fought with the ferocity of a soldier to give the best to those he loved. And he was doing a hell of a job. Thanks to him now, Jordan felt more at peace. Talking so much about Sophia, reconnecting with her children, walking around Plano and of course going to his mother's and sister's grave had helped him a lot.

Finally, after all this time, he had the impression to see the end of the tunnel. To see the beginnings of "Acceptance", the famous stage of grief that Harry had told him about years ago when he heard about Jordan's mother's decease.

"You’re ready to go back to the base?" Alex asked, handing him a plate of pancakes. "You'll be alright?"

Jordan accepted the plate with a faint smile.

"Yeah, I think so. But I'm going to miss y’all.”

"At least, now you know you can come back whenever you want, and will always be at home here, right?”

Jordan nodded gently:

"Yeah. Now I know."

Alex gave him a pat and turned off the stove, grabbing the other two pancake plates and putting them on the table.

"Mickey?" he cried out. "You’re fixin’ to spend your day up there and give your pancakes to Daddy, or you're coming down?”

"WHAT?!” exclaimed the older sibling from upstairs. “DON’T EAT MY PANCAKES, DAD! I'M COMING!”

And Jordan hadn't lied about his feelings when returning to the base. A few days later, the flight back to England was normal enough, but he started missing his family very soon. The kids, his brother-in-law, his land... But somehow Jordan was still happy go back to Rainbow. To see his co-workers, his friends, and the environment that had become his home over the past five years. He missed Emma, Yumi, Jack, Mike, Eliza and the others. And Håvard of course. Because he had stuck to Harry's instructions, and completely disconnected from Rainbow to focus on himself; his recovery, his land and his family.

Now he really felt like a new page was being turned. That the Jordan who would return to Rainbow was no longer the same. That he had completely changed and was entering a new life. Less dark. Less lonely. He truly felt the spirit of his mother and sister with him; _within_ him.

When the cab dropped him a few hundred meters from the base, at the civilian parking lot, he took a deep breath and when he felt a few drops of cold rain fall on his face, he could not contain a grumble:

"Ah damn English shitty weather, I didn't miss you.”

He closed his parka and put on his hood, then pulled the bag over his shoulder and walked quickly to the base before the weather got worse, passing the various security points to Rainbow's main building. He walked through the main door and came across James who was jogging down the hallway with a case of lab gloves.

"Oh, look who’s back!" the British man exclaimed, frankly surprised and strangely alert. “Home sweet home, huh?”

"Yeah, home sweet home," Jordan repeated with a smile. "How are things going?”

"Eeer fine, fine. You know, busy day, busy lab, busy things. I'll let Mike know you're back, he... he'll probably want to talk to you. Y’know. From mate to mate.”

"Um, okay?" Jordan replied. "Well, I'll let you work, then. See you later."

"See you, Jordie boy."

Jordan watched him leave with a curious look, then went up to the dorms. He opened the door to his own and put down his bag, taking off his parka, and started unloading his things. But something wasn't right. Jack's things, usually so neat and tidy, were a mess. He had clothes on his bed, three empty glasses on his bedside table, two half-filled water bottles. It wasn't normal; maybe he had been injured in his absence and was having trouble moving around? A lot could happen in a month.

Once his stuff was back in place or in his laundry basket, he took out his military phone and reconnected to Rainbow's intra-network and messaging system. He refrained himself from looking at his mails, preferring to wait until tomorrow morning and not rush into business while being jetlagged. He typed a message and sent it to Yumi:

[ **Thermite** ] Hey, I'm back! See you at lunch?"

He waited for a few moments, but had no response other than a small pop-up, and suspected that she was in training. He then looked for Emma's contact and sent her a similar message, but this time again, a pop-up appeared. He clicked on it:

_Emmanuelle "Twitch" Pichon has been offline for 11 days._

11 days? Maybe she was operating outdoors or in training? It was more than a week ago, though, and he found it strange that he didn't at least heard about it before he left, given that he was part of Alpha Squad too. He then went back to Yumi's message, and clicked on the pop-up only to find the same line;

_Yumiko "Hibana" Imagawa has been offline for 11 days._

Yumi too? Maybe there were network issues? Strange.  
He then looked for Mike and sent him a message:

[ **Thermite** ] Hey, I think I have network issues, but I’m back. See you at lunch, perhaps?

But Mike quickly answered:

[ **Thatcher** ] Where are you?

Jordan was a bit taken aback by the sharpness of the message, but it was Mike after all. He wasn’t codenamed Thatcher for nothing.

[ **Thermite** ] Uh, in my dorm?

[ **Thatcher** ] I’m coming.

[ **Thermite** ] Wow, you missed me this much?

[ **Thatcher** ] Just wait for me.

Jordan scoffed and sat down on his bed. He looked for Håvard’s contact, and started typing a message... before deleting it. He should probably see him face-to-face. He had so many things to say to him and...

The pop-up appeared.

_Håvard "Ace" Haugland has been offline for 11 days._

And Mike opened the door, his brows knitted together.

"Hey!" Jordan exclaimed, standing up.

Mike then took him in his arms, holding him tightly, almost smothering him.

“Oh jeez, old man. Didn’t know you’d miss me this much.”

“How are you?” Mike asked while releasing him, his face contorted with worry and a sad, yet genuine smile.

“Fine. That was... trying, but for the best. I’m feeling much better now, it changed many things... like you said. But we’ll have time to discuss it,” Jordan answered with a smile. “Do you know what are the others doing today? None answered my messages. Like Emma, Yumi... Håvard?”

Mike sighed, running a hand through his short hair.

“That’s what I thought. You don’t know.”

“Hum... what is it that I don’t know, exactly?”

“Listen, I... I don’t know if there’s a good way to tell you this, but please know that we’re doing everything we can and that there’s still hope.”

“... Man, you’re starting to scare me. What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s been another alert. In a Bulgarian shithole. White Masks moving a hazardous container towards an outpost for their next attack. Alpha Squad was deployed with Yumiko to replace you as a hard-breacher.”

“... And?”

“Alpha Squad has been MIA ever since.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
> You guys wanted more drama, right? haha
> 
> Honestly, poor Thermite, life is so hard with him. But at least he got hugs and kisses... in his dream. That's still something, right?  
> I hope you liked this chapter :) Next one will be mostly psychological, and we'll learn something more about Ace, explaining... things.  
> Anyway, lemme know what you thought, and have a nice day <3


	13. Keep Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thermite passes his psychology aptitude test with Harry.  
> And phones Håvard's mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A psychological chapter. Hope you'll like it :)  
> \+ Warning: Non-graphical mention of pediatric surgery.  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

"I'm glad you were able to take this time for yourself, Jordan. Although I'm sorry to welcome you… under such circumstances." Harry sighed.

"It's not your fault, Harry," Jordan tried to relativize, "I just want to pass the psychology test, so I can go back to training and be able to help.”

"Of course, I expected no less.” Harry replied while grabbing his pen. “So, how do you feel?”

"Very weird. Lot of stuff in my mind.” Jordan admitted, rubbing his hands together. “To begin with, I have some kind of… bitterness, I think. Because I was feeling better, way better, and coming back with this kind of news breaks me up in my… impetus?”

"Can you tell me more about this ‘impetus’ ?"

"Sure. Hum… where do I start… Going back to Texas and reconnecting with Al- with my brother-in-law, my nephew, and my niece made me... revise a lot of things. Made me remember things I had forgotten, and that I had either covered up with lies or just buried so that I couldn’t see them anymore. I'm still not 100% sure I understand why, but I had entered a spiral of guilt, where I felt guilty about a lot of things, and I was deflecting reality to reinforce that guilt.”

"There can be several reasons for this.” Harry replied. ”Sometimes, guilt is a way of explaining, justifying things that we can't accept as they are. It's a side effect of denial, of shock. It often happens when a friend has been the victim of an accident that you witnessed. But sometimes, guilt is a way of relating to your missing loved ones, because we associate our suffering with loyalty: we feel guilty for living, for being happy, when that person can no longer. Very often also, guilt is a limit that we give ourselves to stay in suffering, because we are afraid of forgetting the person if we come out of mourning, or we are afraid that coming out of it means that this person is no longer important to us.”

Jordan nodded gently:

"I think that's a bit something like that. I... When I was on the way home, I thought of something and I... I wasn't sure how to take it. I wanted to get a tattoo. For them. Not something sad, but something that could represent the three of them; a way to keep them with me more than on the inside, also on the outside.”

Harry smiled softly, and nodded.

"It's not something uncommon, and it can indeed soothe. Externalizing through tattooing, a body mark, can help to reassure us about the inherent fear of losing these people from our memories. But tattooing is a very symbolic act, marking the skin, most of the time for life; some cultures consider it a mutilation. It's something to think about and I think you can talk about it with people like Olivier, Craig or Meghan. They’ve gone through similar things.”

"Okay. Thank you.”

"You seem really better, regarding this subject.”

"Yes. Yes, I feel lighter. Ready to move on and turn the page on this whole period when... when I wasn't feeling well.”

"You've been thinking about your accident last month, I guess?”

"Yes and many other things. I thought about our interviews as well. And what Yumi and Emma told me. Even Eliza, or Mike. I wasn't aware of how much I... I was coping. On a daily basis. And how I was stopping people from helping me. I feel a bit guilty that I didn't make it on my own, but I'm glad I can count on you guys if I ever go off the rails again.”

"You didn't have to make it on your own," Harry corrected him. "No one has to go through this alone. And that's no sign of weakness. It's normal. You've been through a lot of trauma in merely a few years. In addition to doing one of the most grueling and dangerous jobs in the world. Many of your co-workers are in regular therapy sessions, whether it's interviews with me, group psychotherapy, stress therapy, acupuncture and other treatments. And just like them, you're entitled to it, Jordan. You've been working here for over 5 years and you're doing an admirable, remarkable job. If today our breaching techniques are among the most sophisticated on the planet, it's thanks to you. You give a lot, Jordan. And it's only natural that you get something back in return.”

Jordan pinched his lips and looked at his hands.

"You still feel guilty when you get help," Harry guessed.

"Yeah, kind of…" Jordan confessed.

"It's okay. We can work on that," Harry reassured him. "For now, I just want you to understand how important you are to all of us, and how much you give to everyone. How much you deserve, are entitled and legitimate to receive help, care, comfort, and support.”

Jordan nodded shyly, frowning to contain a sad grimace.

"There are a few sentences that can help you. I'd like you to keep them in a corner of your mind. _I deserve to be cared for, and care for myself... I deserve to be happy_... _And I don't have to face this alone_...”

"Thanks.”

"You've come a long way already. You're on the right track.”

"Thanks again.”

"Do you want to talk about the rest or not right now?”

"We can.”

"Start wherever you want.”

Jordan stretched his shoulders and massaged his neck. He thought a bit, then sighed and started talking again.

"I was talking about bitterness earlier. Actually, I... when I found out that something happened to the others, it made me angry. Angry because honestly, that was so unfair. Life is just such a bitch, sometimes. I thought everything was going to get better, and when Mike told me that, I just panicked inside. I panicked because I was afraid that all my efforts were going to fall apart. But mostly because I just wasn't ready for something to happen to all of them. The five of them all of a sudden, I... if we learn that they've been killed, I don't know how I... how I'll take it. And Yumi she... she should never have been there, it should have been me, if I hadn't been busy busting my eardrums last month.”

"Again, guilt.”

"Please, admit that it's pretty hard not to feel guilty in this case.”

"I can understand that, yes, but the situation was triggered by the White Masks, not you. If people die in an attack, it's the terrorists' fault, not yours, right?”

"Yes, but I... yes."

Jordan remembered Apha's words about the bombing accident. And he knew they were right.

"And as for the fear of losing them, how do you deal with it?" Harry asked.

"I try to do the best I can. I don't know if it's a good thing, but every time I imagine the worst, I try to push it away by holding on to the fact that there is still hope. And that if there is… someone to grieve, then there will be a time for that, which I'd rather not imagine right now, but... I try to hold on to hope, yeah. To move forward. To be useful. To be ready to get them out of there.”

Harry squinted and asked:

"And do you think you'd be psychologically ready to deploy with, say, Bravo Squad in Yumiko’s place?"

"Psychologically, that's more for you and Eliza to decide. On a practical level, I think so. Doc validated my physical aptitude, despite my hearing loss, and ordered a hearing aid specifically for combat. And I know the Bravo Squad well. That's why you often train us together, anyway.”

"But don't you think your emotions might interfere with the mission?”

Jordan breathed in, rubbing his hands together, and thinking some time, before answering:

"I'll do my best to make sure that doesn't happen. Our goal is to find them and bring them back safe and sound, it's a mission like any other, the stakes are always this high. And Bravo is also affected by their disappearance. Emma and Gilles are Olivier's best friends, and close friends of Elias who has an almost fraternal relationship with Monika. Monika, who... also seems to mean a lot to Kali, not to mention Håvard and... Anyway, you know their relationship as well as I do. I can't promise to be insensitive, but I can promise to do my best to remain as professional, focused and serious as possible.”

Harry stared at him for a moment, squinting his eyes while secretly thinking. He finally pulled a sheet from Jordan's file:

"Gustave has indeed certified you fit for combat again.”

Jordan nodded his head and waited quietly. Harry looked at him one last time, then took his notes from his notebook; his pen stopped on each bullet point, a few words he had circled or underlined. He finally looked at something on his tablet, then slid his finger over a .pdf file and put the tablet back down.

"Tomorrow at 2:00 PM, scenario simulation with Bravo Squad.”

"You certify me psychologically fit for combat?!”

"Yes."

Jordan sighed with relief, letting the tension built in his shoulders drop.

"Thank you... Thank you, Harry. I'll do my best.”

"Keep going, Jordan. These are challenging times, and the hardest part is yet to come - whatever it is. But as you say, there is still hope. Let's hold on to that for now.”

Jordan nodded chastely and for the first time realized something. Something huge that he had never properly acknowledged.

"You're worried about them too, aren't you?” he asked Harry.

Harry replied with a modest smile, and closed his notebook.

"I'm worried about all of you, Jordan. Now go."

Afterwards, the mood was very strange for the rest of the day. Jordan was torn between the terrible anxiety of a tragedy, and the hope of saving them - a hope that was pulling him forwards, charging him with energy and willpower to redouble his psychological and physical efforts to be at his best. He ran into most of the Bravo Squad during the day, and word about him being back and assigned to the squad had spread quickly.

But when he met Kali, he was surprised to find her worried, even though she was not one to easily betray her emotions.

"It's good that you're joining the squad," she simply told him. "Your gadget will be useful to us and you already know everyone.”

"Do you think there are things we both need to… hum settle, first?" he professionally asked her. "A conversation we should have? Things I shouldn't say, or should avoid… ?”

She rolled her eyes, but her face was rather sad than contemptuous.

"No,” she replied. “We’re professionals. Don't act childish and everything will be fine.”

"Sure," he sighed.

Kali stared at him again, as if she hesitated to tell him something, and finally gave in, unfolding her arms:

"Maybe there's something… It’s just… You know that I'm in charge of Håvard, right?”

"Yeah."

"I had to tell his mother what happened. Without going into details, of course, it's confidential, but at least tell her that her son was MIA, which is why he wouldn't answer his shiny stupid phone anytime soon. And I... I was thinking that maybe you could call her to reassure her? I'm really not good at that kind of stuff, and she mentioned you, and you're close to him, so... I know, I’m not asking you something easy, but I feel guilty. He's supposed to be under my responsibility and I just... I'd like to do things right.”

Jordan nodded sadly.

“Sure. I can do that.”

There was a silence. Kali was looking for Håvard’s mother number, and started telling:

“I’m sure he’s going to be okay, though. He’s been taken hostage once before, you know? In Somalia, an operation gone wrong. He pissed off his captors so much, they nicknamed him ‘the white monkey’ in their communications, which helped us to locate him. They kept him alive when they understood he was famous and there was even more money to make out of him. Just imagine Ngũgĩ‘s face when he received the order to “Rescue the ‘white monkey’”.

Jordan honestly chuckled at her tale, while Kali gave him the phone number.

“Anyway, I just hope we’ll be there in time,” she sighed. “Foxtrot is already on the field, led by Valkyrie. I trust her but I just wish there was a way to make things go faster.”

“Can’t say I don’t share the feeling.”

“See you tomorrow during training, then.”

“Sure. See ya.”

She gave him a quick military salute and left. Jordan stood in the hallway for a moment, looking at the phone number. It wasn't going to be easy, but he owed it to Håvard. And though Jordan had already been in this position before - having to talk to the family of an injured or missing colleague – this time, it was Håvard and...

_Please, Håvard. I know this is going to be difficult for you, but wherever you are, **please** don't get into more trouble... _

He walked to the base's phone booths, not having enough credit on his own phone, to call a number in Norway, and noticed Olivier a little further away, on the phone with someone. They exchanged a quick mute sign, and Jordan isolated himself at one of the phones, dialing the number of Håvard's mother. Time difference should be good.

The first ring went through. Then the second. And she answered on the third:

"Hej?" asked a slightly hoarse female voice.

"Hello, Mrs. Haugland?"

"Hello?! Are you from Nighthaven?!" she immediately replied with a thick Norwegian accent.

"N-No. Well, yes, kind of. It's Jordan, ma'am. I-"

"Oh Jordan, _takk Gud_... Jordan is that... how are you? I heard you were injured? And you... You came back for...? Did you..."

"I'm fine ma'am, thank you. I'm sorry, I don't have any news about Håvard. But I'm back at the base, and I'm training to be part of the team that will come to his rescue as soon as... we have news.”

"Is there... is there still hope?" she asked, her throat clenched. "Nobody tells me anything, I'm... I'm terrified, is he... is he...?”

"We have no proof that he was... killed. Neither he nor anyone in his squad. We remain hopeful and we already have mobilized teams that are doing everything possible. There is still hope. _I_ have hope.”

"Jordan, I... I'm sorry, there's nothing you can do about it right now, but if... if something happened to him, I... I don't know what I would do, I... he's my son. My only son, I... I love him so much.”

Her voice broke in a sob, and Jordan squeezed his eyes shut, his own heart tightening at the idea. But he tried to keep his composure and professionalism, and stay strong and sturdy for her.

"... I can understand,” he said. “And I promise you that I will do everything I can to bring him back. Even if I have to go down to hell and drag him all the way, I will. No matter what happened to him, I will find him, and bring him back.”

"T-Thank you, Jordan... I... Will you call me as soon as there's news?”

"Of course, Ma’am.”

"Øyvor. Please, call me Øyvor.”

"Of course, Mrs. Øy-Øyvor.”

He heard her chuckle at that, before she deeply breathed out, sniffing.

"I'm so scared Jordan... I'm sorry to say all this, but... I almost lost him once and I don’t want to ever live that again. He... He wasn't even born yet. There were complications and I almost..."

She smothered a sob and Jordan listened silently and respectfully.

"I almost lost him. We had to deliver him prematurely, and even then it wasn't easy and... without the pediatric surgeons... we could have... both of us... and he nearly died; I almost lost everything. I never wanted to go through that again, so when he told me he wanted to enlist in the army instead of medicine...! But he was so happy. He felt like he belonged, and when he was able to join your group... I couldn't help but be happy for him. I had almost forgotten how everything could change from one day to the next. How I could lose him in just a moment..."

"I understand. I understand... too well," Jordan sighed, his heart tightening and his father’s face appearing in a fade. "But he's not lost yet, ma'am. He's one of the most trained men on the planet for this kind of situation. All the chances are on our side.”

"You're right... we have to keep hope until... until we know. But it's so difficult.”

"Would you like me to try to call you more regularly? I may not always have news to share with you, but if I can be of any support?”

"You're so sweet, Jordan. I can see why he likes you so much...” she said with a smile. “I- I wish we could, but I don't want to distract you from your job.”

"I owe it to him. And I understand your position, Ma'am.”

"Øyvor.”

"Mrs. Øyvor, sorry.”

"No, that's my first name, Jordan," she ended up explaining with a chuckle. "You can call me just by my first name.”

"Oh sorry Ma- Øyvor. I will try."

"It's true that your Norwegian accent is cute.”

Jordan blushed as he pinched his lips. Did Håvard tell her that? He turned his head slightly when he saw Olivier waving for him to join him, visibly impatient after his own shortened call.

"I'm sorry Ma- Øyvor, but I have to go. I will try to call you back as soon as possible.”

"Thank you, Jordan, for everything.”

They hung up and Olivier came towards him, with a sympathetic, yet alert look on his face.

“Hey. _Pardon,_ I didn’t mean to interrupt, but did you see Zof's message?"

Jordan frowned and pulled out his military phone.

"No, she's just sent it? What's that about?" he asked.

"Alpha has been located by Foxtrot."

Jordan froze, goggling at Olivier. He rushed to open the message.

> _Code 2.0.2. Alpha has been located by Foxtrot.  
>  Bravo and Charlie, present at Arsenal B3 at 1500 for immediate deployment._
> 
> _Z._

"Code 2.0.2 means hostage rescue without civilian presence or immediate threats of reprisals..." Jordan mumbled to himself.

Olivier gently squeezed his shoulder.

"They're alive." 

_Gilles, Mon', Håvard, Yumi, Emma... we're coming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> Thank you for reading. I hope you liked this chapter.  
> As you may have seen, I extended the chapter number again, sorry u_u The epilogue just happened to be longer than expected haha (perhaps that's also me unconsciously not wanting to let go of this fanfic? haha)
> 
> Anyway, lemme know what you thought <3  
> Next chapter will, unsurprisingly, have a lot of action.
> 
> Have a nice day!


	14. Foxtrot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bravo and Charlie join Foxtrot Squad in Romania to rescue Alpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there :) Ready for some action? Here's some.  
> \+ Warning: Non-graphical nor detailed occurrence of torture  
> \+ Warning: Several mentions of blood  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing / military inaccuracy

> **Foxtrot Squad -** Specialized in intelligence and counter-infiltration:  
>  Valkyrie, Echo, Ela, Mute, Vigil

Bravo and Charlie discreetly landed in Romania, before heading to the outpost set up by Foxtrot in a house lost in the Wallachian forest. Ash had given them most of the information on the way, but when they arrived, Valkyrie, leader of Foxtrot's squad, was quick to update them.

It had been an ambush. The White Masks knew what they were doing and were very aware that Rainbow would try to stop them. Alpha Squad had been taken hostage during the operation. The White Masks wanted to know how Rainbow had learned of their activities in Bulgaria, who their leader was, and what had happened in the town of Truth & Consequence in 2018. According to Valkyrie, they had so far managed to extract Alpha squad’s code names and nationalities - and had managed to obtain from one of them the name of their leader: "Six".

Meghan then showed them the configuration of the place, that Echo had started to drone discreetly, and that Vigil had started marking with various gadgets during the night. The White Mask house, which hid an underground bunker from the Stalinist era, had been bugged and Mute was working as much as possible to clean up the electromagnetic signals and communications coming from the bunker.

"Now that you're here, Lion's drone should help us validate our readings regarding the depth of the bunker and the number of White Masks hiding in there. And Dokk will help Mute decode these signals.”

"Thank you, Valk," Eliza replied. "You told me you had found only one way in and out of this bunker. Any updates on that?”

"Not yet, but we're working on it. Lion's drone will help here too, because we still have too rough an idea of the size of the underground network. It's not a traditional bunker, or a serial model. From the archives we were able to consult, it was the bunker of a rich baron, custom-made during the Cold War. But the plans are untraceable, as well as any paper referring to the construction site - the only decent archive we rely on comes from his daughter's diary, which mentions it a few times.”

"Hm, understood," Eliza replied, thinking some more while tapping her lips with her index finger.

"What do you suggest at this point?" Zofia asked, wiping her sunglasses with her sleeve.

"The classic," Meghan answered. "Gathering intel. Listening. Watching. Analyzing. Their lives aren't immediately in danger as long as they hold on.”

"We can't leave them down there too long," Eliza protested. "It's already been two weeks... they won't last forever, and the White Masks are not known for their patience... they'll end up killing one of them to force the others to talk.”

"I know. But I'm not asking for awhole other week. Tomorrow, we should have much more information thanks to Bravo and Charlie. And from my experience, I think we will be able to start the assault within 3 days.”

Eliza didn't seem satisfied with that statement and sighed. Zofia patted her shoulder, and Mike just grimaced.

"I know," Valkyrie repeated, running a hand through her blonde hair. "It's long, three days... so let's do this intelligence work the best we can so that they don’t suffer for nothing.”

The leaders eventually nodded to that, and the next morning, everyone was quickly put to work. Everyone had something to do. Even the assault operators were helping in some way. Blitz, thanks to his background in linguistics, was helping the communication between Rainbow's translation department and the Bulgarian-language information provided by Mute and Valkyrie. Kali even worked on the assault strategy with Ash, telling her about similar situations she had faced in the past, and the tricks she had found. Thermite worked with Zofia on the potential for breaches at various points in the bunker, and with information from Lion's drone, analyzed the quality and structure of the ground to anticipate a collapse in case of an implosion.

Yet, the silent productivity was to be disrupted.

In the middle of the afternoon, while Valkyrie, Thatcher and Ash were still dialoguing over a reconstructed map of the bunker, in the main room of their hideout, Zofia and Thermite listening closely to them and studying for breaches, sudden thumps echoed and vibrated from the listening room. Like a chair thrown to the ground. The operators immediately cut their conversation, and Mute appeared from the listening room, unsteadily opening the door.

He was pale, despite his usual caramel carnation, and shaking like a leaf.

He gulped, and waved for Valkyrie to join him.

“W-We have... We c-can hear... Alpha,” he stammered.

Instantly, Valkyrie and Thatcher were at his sides. Thatcher cupped his face in his hands:

“Hey, kid, look at me. It’s ok... ”

Valkyrie grabbed his headset while Dokkaebi was containing a wince at the other side of the listening room, still working on her tablet and listening to the communication.

And Valkyrie nearly dropped the headset when Monika’s scream echoed through it. Piercing the air in a sizzled shriek.

“Those fucking bastards!” Kali shouted. “We need to act NOW!”

“Stay calm, Kali, we-“ Eliza tried to say.

“THEY’RE GOING TO KILL HER!” Kali exclaimed, foaming with dread and anger.

Thatcher grabbed Mute by the elbow and accompanied him outside of the house, on the small porch, for him to get some fresh air and silence. Ash tried to contain Kali’s anger:

“I’m scared too!” she protested. “But we can’t just start the assault now and risk their lives! We’ve managed to cleanse the signals, that’s a huge step and we’re close to being ready!”

“There will soon be no one left to save!” Kali shouted back. “They’re torturing her!!”

“Kali, we know," Zofia stepped in, her voice cold yet steady, “and we’re going to make them pay. But if we rush in now, unprepared, they are _definitely_ going to kill her. And we don’t want that.”

Kali seemed to calm a bit at her squad leader’s words, and dragged herself to a couch, brutally sitting down and putting her head in her hands, groaning with muffled rage. Eliza stared at her from afar, and Zofia sighed, murmuring to Eliza:

“Give her some time. She’ll be ok.”

“We can’t afford having her losing it,” Eliza complained, “or she’s going to endanger all of us.”

“She won’t,” Zofia defended. “I’m responsible for her, and I trust her.”

Jordan, who had witnessed the whole scene, was petrified on his spot. For despite his distance, he had heard Monika’s screams of pain too. And his body was boiling from the inside, his heart pumping blood like if it was his own life that was in danger. Ready to move – ready to burst on the slightest call. He repetitively closed and opened his fists, trying to relax his stiff hands burning with the will to punch White Masks’ skulls, and just… do something.

Eliza cleared her throat, seeing that other operators were staring at the scene.

“Listen up, everyone,” she started with a loud and clear voice. “Yes, situation is critical. Yes, they are suffering down there, getting starved and tortured. But we can’t afford to lose control of our emotions right now, because they need us. They need us to act with all our professionalism and rationalism to get them out of here. Dokk and Mute have managed to cleanse the signals. This is a huge step. This is all we needed to move forward. We are close to being ready. It’s a matter of hours. So, let’s remain focused. For them. So that we can safely bring them home.”

Zofia instinctively moved next to her with approval, standing straight as the squad leader she was. Eliza breathed in, glancing at Kali, Jordan, and all the other operators, and said:

“This is where we turn the tide. Or drown.”

Jordan nodded silently, his friends’ faces scrolling ghostly before his eyes. Imagining what was happening down there. To Gilles, Emma, Monika… who he had known for so many years, since his beginning at Rainbow. They weren’t just his colleagues – they were family. And Yumi… one of his best friends, he couldn’t imagine her modest and gentle smile being punched toothless, and he remembered how Jack was absolutely wrecked – waiting in a powerless depressive state at the base, so far from his lover. And Håvard… that cheeky lovely idiot. What if he had already been killed down there, lying in a pool of his own blood…

_What would Jordan say to his mother?_

“Jordan?” Eliza repeated.

He hadn’t realized she had stepped next to him, while everybody had gone back to work. She squeezed his bicep.

“You’re ok, in there?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Can I trust you to remain composed for this?”

“You can.”

She softly smiled at him.

“You used that same sentence. Back in New Mexico,” he couldn’t help remark. “ _This is where we turn the tide, or drown_.”

“And the operation was a success. We did turn the tide.”

“I remember how I just wanted to nuke the goddam town. Good thing you didn’t listen to me, back then.”

“That’s my job,” she replied. “I have to think with the big picture, so that you guys can focus on what you are the best at. And trust my decisions.”

Jordan softly smiled, but heard Kali shift from the couch. She walked towards them.

“I’m sorry,” she plainly said as if she didn’t really mean it. “Let’s get back to the map and our conversation.”

Jordan nodded, and sighed.

They were so close. _Yet it still seemed so fucking far._

The day after, it was 0400 when Bravo and Charlie squads got ready. It was dark and cold, a fine fog dripping and soaking the forest in moisture and mist. The two squads moved stealthily, making their way towards the hideout in a dead silence. They stopped 20 meters away, looking for their targets. Three had been identified by Echo, and they quickly found them. Mike signed for his team to get in position for synchronized shots.

On his mark, the three tangos went down, deadly shot in one unique suppressed sound, their dead bodies falling in a thump to the ground. Dokkaebi immediately went to retrieve their cell phones and, via the White Masks network, connected to the bunker cameras, while the teams entered the house hiding the entrance.

"This is it. Their cams are ours, Dokkaebi, over,” she whispered.

"Correct," Valkyrie's voice replied in their headsets, "give us thirty seconds to confirm the path, Foxtrot over.”

Bravo and Charlie hid the bodies of the White Masks in the forest and held their position in perfect silence.

"Path is confirmed. Charlie, progress through Jungle towards Office. Bravo, progress through Lane 1 till Door 2. No tangos detected. Foxtrot, over."

"Charlie, wilco," Thatcher replied, waving to his team to advance.

"Bravo, wilco," replied Zofia in turn, letting Charlie go first.

The goal was for Charlie to penetrate to the first security office from which Dokkaebi could hack the network linked to the bunker doors and various motion detectors. Bravo would meanwhile progress in a parallel lane and wait for Dokkaebi to open the door.

The operation continued in a most professional silence, but as the squads entered the bunker, interference became increasingly problematic for their comms.

"This is Charlie," Thatcher whispered, "requesting a radio check, over."

"Charlie, this is Bravo," replied Zofia, "you’re good and readable, over."

"Charlie, Bravo, this is Foxtrot," replied Valkyrie, "reading you both weak with interference, over."

"Foxtrot, should we wait for you to cleanse the signal? Charlie over."

"Charlie, negative, assume control, Foxtrot over."

"Bravo, progressing through Jungle, Charlie over."

"Charlie, progressing through Lane 1,” Zofia announced. “We have no light down there and are in the dark, do you experience the same situation? Bravo over."

"Negative, lights are on. Do you notice anything off? Charlie over."

"Negative apart from the lights. Reaching Door 2, Bravo over."

Thatcher's squad arrived in front of Office. Maverick started to work on the door with his blowtorch, slowly but surely and in great silence, till he could open the door from the other side. When they entered the office, Dokkaebi immediately went to neutralize the source of the jamming.

"Foxtrot, this is Charlie, requesting a radio check, over." Thatcher asked.

"Charlie, this is Foxtrot, reading you loud and clear. Assuming control. 2 tangos heading to your position through Tetris, equipped with P90 in their hands, light Kevlar protection and no helmet. Wearing white masks and urban blue camo, walking side by side, silence and out."

Thatcher's squad immediately moved into position and waited stealthily in the office. The announced enemies were going to pass through Tetris, a cramped block of corridor connected to Jungle, where they came from. Thatcher signaled with his hands to Nøkk to move to the opposite position. The door from Tetris to Jungle opened and when it closed behind the enemies, the two operators immediately neutralized the White Masks, then hid their bodies in Office.

"Foxtrot, this is Charlie. Tangos neutralized. Requesting confirmation to open Door 2 for Bravo, over."

"Request granted, no tangos detected in L2, Foxtrot over."

"Copied your previous, squad in position, Bravo over," replied Zofia.

Thatcher nodded at Dokkaebi, and she opened D2 for Bravo with her tablet. On Bravo's side, Blitz was the first to enter Lane 2, holding his shield firmly in front of him and the squad closely following him in a column.

Tension was rising at its highest, because at the other end of this corridor was a wall. A wall behind which part of Alpha Squad was being held hostage. Charlie, on the other hand, progressed into another lane, making their way through thanks to Maverick's blowtorch, and reached a second security office, whose guards they neutralized.

Part of Bravo then split in two. The first one, composed of Thermite and Lion, remained close to the wall and began to stick an exothermic charge, Lion preparing himself to use his drone at any second on call. The rest, composed of Zofia, Kali and Blitz, progressed down the corridor to the room where the guards were supposed to be watching the cells.

"Foxtrot, in position on Zulu Yankee points, ready to start the assault, Bravo over,” Zofia announced.

"Foxtrot, in position on November, ready to start the assault, Charlie over,” Mike also announced.

"Charlie, are you ready to set up the EMP and activate the phones? Foxtrot over."

"Foxtrot, correct. Ready to EMP and activate their phones, Charlie over."

"Bravo, Charlie, ready to start the assault on the count of 5,” Valkyrie’s voice firmly uttered. “5... 4... 3... 2... 1. GO!"

The assault began in a frenzy.

First, the terrorists’ phones rang and confirmed the number of terrorists in the rooms. Then, Lion’s drone activated and confirmed on everyone's watch the human positions of the hostages and terrorists. And at the same time: Thatcher's EMP grenade, Thermite's Exothermic Charge, the flash of Blitz’s shield, Zofia's grenades, and bursts of bullets flashed through the poorly lit bunker. Thermite entered the cell from his breach, and immediately grabbed the first person: Yumiko. She was bloody, dressed in clothes that were not hers, and he quickly yanked her out of the breach, Lion quickly pulling her out. Thermite then hastily grabbed the other two: Emma and Monika, handing them to Lion again, and reconcentrated on the assault.

Blitz took a bullet in the foot and almost lowered his shield in a reflex, but held on to protect Zofia - who finished off the last enemies in the room. They continued to progress, closing onto the White Masks with the rest of Charlie. Nøkk was sent back to help Lion and Kali evacuate the three women of the Alpha Squad and get them to safety.

"Uuuurgh, Lion, this is Zofia, requesting another EE-ONE-D charge!" she cried as other enemies began to emerge from the bottom of the bunker like cockroaches.

"R-Roger that!” sizzled Lion's voice. "EE-ONE-D activated!”

There was then an influx of red signatures on their watches, at least fifteen of them. Thatcher dropped another EMP grenade in the enemy direction, and the assault continued. Zofia grabbed a metal table and knocked it over in the hope to gain some cover and relieve the pressure on Blitz, and Thatcher did the same on his side.

"Foxtrot, this is Thatcher! Montagne and Ace are nowhere to be found. I repeat, Montagne and Ace are nowhere to be found. Do you have something on the cameras?!"

"Negative, they should have been there. Other possible location is on Sierra. Foxtrot, over."

_What a fucking mess._

The two squads managed to control most of the battle, and started pushing the White Masks further into the bunker. On the way, they passed laboratories and a makeshift arsenal, but one of the last room of the wing froze their blood. It was an interrogation room.

_Where Gilles was lying bloodily on the floor._

Before any White Mask could reach his side to use him as a human shield, they were riddled with bullets, and Lion, who had returned in a hurry, picked Montagne up and dragged him safely out of the field, while Bravo and Charlie kept moving forward. They reached the end of the bunker, between Sierra and Romeo points, where the White Masks were cornered with nowhere to hide.

But then, they played their last card.

_Ace._

"PUT DOWN YOUR GUNS OR I'LL SHOOT HIM IN THE FUCKING HEAD!” the White Mask shouted, pointing his SMG at Ace’s temple.

And the battle froze. Bravo and Charlie were holding the last White Masks at bay, but they had Ace’s life at the bottom of a barrel.

"What do you want?" Zofia demanded in a loud voice.

"L-LOWER YOUR WEAPONS! AND LET US GO! OR I'LL KILL HIM!”

The White Mask was literally foaming with rage - under his broken mask, there was drool dripping from his cracked lips. Ace, on the other hand, looked like a specter, white as a sheet and barely conscious, his bleeding face smeared with bruises, and his shirt stained with blood. The White Mask’s arm pressed against his throat, smothering him, seemed like the only thing keeping him standing.

"No need to come to that!" cried Zofia, raising a hand as a sign of parley. "There is clearly some common ground to be found.”

"DON'T PLAY WITH US!”

"Handle him over, and we will drop our weapons," Zofia firmly responded.

"No, no, no, it doesn't work like that!!" the White Mask cried, gluing the gun barrel to Ace’s temple. "YOU drop your weapons, and AFTER you let us go, we handle him.”

Zofia and Thatcher peeped at each other. And Valkyrie confirmed them in the earpiece:

"Copied with previous. Kali, Lion, Nøkk, and Foxtrot are standing outside, ready to fire on their sight."

Zofia took a deep breath and dropped her weapon, staying protected behind Blitz.

"Fine, go ahead, but let him go as soon as you walk out the door and we won't follow you.”

The terrorist seemed to hesitate, but quickly exchanged glances with his two minions, and started to walk towards the exit. Zofia motioned to her squad, and Thatcher to his, to lower their weapons and put one hand in the air. The White Masks then dragged Ace with them into the hallway when suddenly, Ace’s hand suspiciously clung to the wall’s fire alarm.

The alarm immediately went out, in a deafening shrill sound, and the corridor was sprinkled with a rank fire-fighting liquid. The White Masks let go of Ace to wipe their stinging eyes in the chaos, and Ace immediately rolled and lay on the floor, protecting his head with his hands.

Bravo and Charlie instantly raised their weapons, seizing the opportunity to shoot the White Masks. The last ones.

Then, there was a silence, the adrenaline still pumping in their veins.

"Activating EE-ONE-D," Lion announced.

Motionless, the operators waited for his report.

"No additional signature revealed, Lion over."

"No additional tangos detected by cameras and gadgets, Echo over."

_It was over._

Jordan slung his weapon over his shoulder and threw himself at Håvard’s side.

"You stupid genius, are you alright?" he cried.

"Hmmmpf," muttered Håvard, his eyes squeezed shut, and his face twisted with a grimace of pain.

"Let's get him out of here," Mike told him, helping him carry Håvard, each of them taking one of his weak and limp arms around their shoulders.

"Hmmm 'hurts..." Håvard whined, blood dripping from his mouth.

"I know, baby. But you're going to be alright,” Jordan tried to rassure him. “We're there. You're saved, okay? Everybody is saved.”

"Di' you 'all 'e 'aby?" Håvard mumbled, before spitting out the blood that had collected in his mouth. “I ‘ink I havin’ ha’ushinations. Got hit ‘ad on the head.”

“Do I really have to witness this?” Mike sighed.

Jordan chuckled, helping Håvard walk towards the exit.

“Come on, pretty,” he murmured to him. “We’re going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : )  
> This is it. Thanks for reading. Next chapter... iz lasst chapteer u_u  
> I was thinking of writing a tumblr post about this fic, some behind the scenes things, including some Q&A we shared in the comments, some anecdotes/trivia... so if you guys have any questions or things you'd like to know or read in the post, don't hesitate :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter, lemme know <3  
> And have a nice week :D


	15. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it :) Hope you guys will enjoy this last chapter.  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

When Håvard decently woke up for the first time since God knows how long, a gentle light was warming his eyelids. He managed to flutter them open, and realized that it was sunlight shining through the blind of a medical room - white walls, tiled ceiling, and lights half extinguished.

He took a deep breath, feeling his body anchylosed, and pulled one hand out of the blanket to rub his eyes. He noticed the IV and bandages on his arm, and tried to sit up with his other hand, but found it trapped by a weight. He tried to pull a little as he glanced at the origin of the resistance, to make sure that he simply _still_ had his hand.

But that's when he saw _him_.

Jordan. Slumped forward on a chair, his head resting on Håvard's hand, near his hip, his face asleep; a small butterfly bandage on his cheek. Håvard’s heart started beating crazily at this sight: Jordan was so close. He was _there_. And they were both safe and sound. And he was with him again. His _sweetie pie_... he missed him so much, and the mere sight of his face was enough to put butterflies in his belly, and he was dying to put a kiss on his sleepy face.

But his arm was getting a little numb, so he pulled it free. In the process, he accidentally woke Jordan up, who suddenly sat up, his eyes half closed, and face confused.

"Hej, sweetie pie," Håvard whispered with a cavernous voice he hadn't used for some time.

"You're awake. How do you feel? Are you in pain?" Jordan immediately asked.

"Hm... no, I don't think so, I... I'm just exhausted. And I'm not sure I remember everything," he mumbled. "I... we... is it over?"

"Yes. You're safe. All of you.”

"Where are the others?”

"Not far. The girls are already better and resting in their dorms with their lovers. And Gilles is still heavily medicated, but he's gonna make it.”

"H-How much time...?”

"You were MIA for 16 days. And you’ve been back for 3 days, you slept a lot. You were wounded and exhausted.”

Håvard faintly nodded his head, running a hand through his hair and scratching his scalp.

"And you... you're back from Texas?”

"Yeah. And I'm warning you right now, this is the last time you take advantage of my absence to get kidnapped.”

Håvard couldn't repress a sad smile. He also noticed the hearing aids on Jordan's ears, and unconsciously brought his fingers close to his face to graze them:

"Your hearing... hasn't returned?” he asked with worry.

Jordan smiled joylessly.

"Not fully," he admitted.

There was silence after that. Håvard frowned, and his face tensed with the idea of Jordan being somehow forever injured. He still remembered the trip in the helicopter, the thick bandage around his ears and head, his dilated pupils and sobs... when he was holding his wounded face in his hands.

So useless and powerless in the face of Jordan’s physical and mental suffering.

Jordan tilted his head to the right, worried by Håvard's silence, and asked him:

"Are you in pain? Do you want me to call Doc?”

"N-No, sorry. I'm still a little out of it... So we’re in Hereford now?”

"Don't you recognize the room?” Jordan replied with a smile. “It's where you were during your concussion.”

Håvard scanned the room and remembered it indeed. But it was strange; there were flowers and letters on the table. Jordan followed his gaze.

"Ah, yes," he started explaining, “Emma made me buy you flowers, and Harry, Kali, Apha, Melusi and Julien wrote you a few words. And so did Olivier, but he writes so badly that it would be better to have Gustave decipher it. And your fans also wrote you tons of messages on your networks.”

"My... fans?" Håvard questioned. "How did they find out?"

"Your mother told them. I didn't know she also had an account with so many followers," Jordan replied with a chuckle.

"My... mother?!" Håvard suddenly exclaimed. "Oh my God, she must be so worried, I-"

"Shh, shh, don't worry,” Jordan immediately reassured him. “I've phoned her several times. She’s ok, she just can't wait to hear your voice and see you again.”

"... she must have been worried sick,” Håvard mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut at the idea.

"It's over now," Jordan repeated while taking one of Håvard’s hands in his own.

And Håvard relaxed at that touch. Jordan's hands were warm, comforting, and Håvard could sometimes feel small irregularities, probably from his scars and burns, but it was all the more pleasing, because they were _his_ hands. No one else's, and he would recognize them by touch with his eyes closed.

Håvard couldn't help but sigh with relief, even though a shadow still tinged his heart.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

Jordan seemed surprised by his question, his brows lifting with confusion. But he quickly answered:

"Someone needed to take care of you, and be there when you woke up."

"So, you're here out of obligation? Please don't tell me you feel guilty for what happened, or something like that."

Jordan chuckled, massaging Håvard's wrist in his hands.

"No, lemme rephrase this,” he restarted with a smile. “I'm here because _I care about you_."

Then, Jordan looked him in the eye, fixing his silver gaze on Håvard’s drowsy sapphires. The latter immediately fled his stare, looking away and squinting a bit. He was about to massage the bridge of his nose with his other hand, bandaged, but Jordan softly stopped him from it.

"Don't touch your nose. It's still healing,” he worriedly said.

Håvard squinted at his own nose, and realized he had a thick bandage on it, hence his latent feeling of discomfort. His bandaged hand fell back on the mattress and he just sighed. His other hand was still in Jordan's.

_Why was he so affectionate? Massaging his hand, telling him those sweet things… ?_

"When you say that you care about me... “ Håvard mumbled. “Is it... I mean, I don't understand, in what sense do you... care?"

But the door opened before Jordan could answer, his hands instantly releasing Håvard's, and Doc appeared:

"Ah I was telling myself you’d probably be waking up!" the Frenchman exclaimed. “How's our sleeping beauty doing?”

"Um, I... well. I'm just feeling a bit... groggy?”

Jordan stood up, putting his chair next to the table, and started to blush.

"Let's um... I'll let Doc check you out a little bit and…” he clumsily stammered. “I'll... we'll talk later, okay?”

"Am I interrupting something?” Doc asked straightforwardly, raising an eyebrow.

"N-No, I was... I was just telling him what happened and... yes, no. I'll... I'll see you later, Håvard?”

"Hum... yes?”

Jordan left, closing the door behind him, and Doc stared at Håvard, raising his black eyebrow again, a smirk on the corner of his lips:

"I interrupted something, didn’t I?”

Jaimini found the person she was looking for, after quite an easy hunt. To be honest, there were actually very few places where her prey could be found. Jaimini walked up to her, her combat boots tapping noisily against the floor of the empty and half obscured workshop, until she was at her level.

“Figured you’d be here, dollhead,” Jaimini scoffed, approaching Monika’s workbench. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Go away,” Monika simply replied without shifting, her eyes squinting at the tiny piece of metal she was manipulating with precaution.

Jaimini smirked and went to sit down on the very workbench, pulling Monika out of her focus.

“Move your fat ass away from my bench,” Monika grumbled with her thick German accent. “I’m working.”

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Jaimini replied with a challenging smirk. “And your ass is fatter than mine, by the way.”

Monika dropped her tools, and was about to scold the Indian woman bad, when she got suddenly pulled by the collar of her lab coat. Warm lips crashing on hers, and completely stunning her.

Jaimini chuckled against her lips, and after long seconds of tasting her mouth finally let go of her. Monika tried to keep her angry face on, but couldn’t help cracking an amused smile.

“Had I known you were going to be this attention-needy, Jaimini Kalimohan Shah...”

“I’m not needy. I just want you to rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

“I know. But resting isn’t what I need.”

“That’s not what your French doctor said.”

“Let me rephrase this then,” Monika explained. ”Staying in a bed in a sleepy state isn’t what I need. I need to reconnect to my reality, my lifestyle, get my routines back. Convince my mind into realizing that what happened is done and past, and that I’m well again.”

Jaimini tilted her head sideways, her eyes absent-mindedly looking skywards, as if mentalizing something. Monika smiled weakly, and added:

“I don’t expect you to understand,” she said, placing her hand on Jaimini’s. “Just trust me on that.”

Jaimini tangled her fingers with her freshly nail-polished ones.

“I think I do understand, on the contrary. When… When I got injured and had to rest, the only thing that could soothe me was going back to work. Negotiating. Organizing missions. Reading reports from the R&D department. People told me that I had to let go, but… “

“They didn’t understand?” murmured Monika.

“No. They didn’t. They thought that I was evading the resting process, fleeing something, that drowning myself in work was a coping mechanism. But it wasn’t.”

“That’s just your thing. What you like. How you are,” Monika whispered, more for herself.

Jaimini nodded and continued:

“Sure, there were some excesses that I had to address. Insomnia. Anxiety. But stopping me from doing what I like wasn’t resting.”

Monika smiled softly, gazing at Jaimini. She would never admit it at loud, but she was so happy to hear those words from someone else’s mouth. Someone like her, who could understand her. She felt less alone. Understood. Valid. A warmth spreading in her chest at the sight of Jaimini’s lost gaze, the kohl circling her dark eyes, her sun-kissed skin and muscled figure, her straight spine and defying posture - her gorgeous body wrapped in her Nighthaven uniform as she was still sitting on the workbench, opening up about herself.

Monika closed the gap between them, putting herself between Jaimini’s legs and wrapped her arms around her, till her hands were resting on Jaimini’s lower back. Monika smirked, standing slightly taller, and put a gentle peck on her cheek.

Jaimini’s face softened as she hugged her back.

“Sorry, I’m babbling about my self-interested ass,” Jaimini murmured.

“It’s ok. I appreciate you telling me this.” _It matters more than you think._ “Besides, I love your self-interested ass.”

Jaimini smiled, sliding her hands under Monika’s lab coat to stroke her back.

“You’re still tensed,” she noticed.

“Probably,” Monika admitted with a shrug.

“Can I help?” Jaimini genuinely asked.

“Maybe we could do some yoga after work? I remember you shitting a brick about me not doing it _‘right’_.”

“Hm… I’d like that,” Jaimini purred. “Very much.”

“Can I make a kamasutra joke or I’m going to sound racist?”

“Oh?!” Jaimini exclaimed while suddenly blushing. “Y-You were talking about _this_ kind of yoga?”

Monika giggled, stroking Jaimini’s cheek, before detaching her body from hers and going back to work.

“See you later, hun’?”

Jaimini clumsily jumped down from the workbench, straightening her clothes and trying to regain her composure and put her bossy bitch mask back on.

“Sure, baby doll… Sure.”

_Later in the day. On the roof of Hereford's main building._

Håvard was waiting. Doc had allowed him to go out of the infirmary to get some fresh air, on the condition that he didn't do anything 'stupid'. Håvard was still on pain killers and antibiotics; two of his ribs had been fractured, and his nose had been broken in several places and was now covered with a large bandage following his operation, to keep it in place for the time of the repair. Not to mention his left hand, whose nails had been torn off and infected, and which was now resting in a thick bandage. He had almost been amputated; a few more hours and it would have been too late. And then there were the three teeth he had lost, his dislocated jaw that Doc had fixed but which still caused him discomfort whenever he opened it too wide, and the bruises that were staining his body with filthy green and purple galaxies.

He had never felt so ugly in his life.

Of course, his body was going to repair, to heal, but his nose... Doc had told him that they had to operate so that his cartilage wouldn't mend in a bad way and cause him breathing problems. But they weren't plastic surgeons. And between his nose, his scars, bruises, broken teeth... He didn't dare look at himself in the mirror anymore.

He was strangely nauseous at the thought of Jordan seeing him like that. When he had woken up, Håvard had been still too out of it to even imagine how ugly he was, and Jordan's fond gaze had blinded him to this potentiality. _His fond gaze…_

He and Jordan said they would meet later, and Håvard suggested the roof in mid-afternoon by message. But he didn't know what to expect. He didn't know what to think. On the one hand, the last real private interaction they'd had was over a month ago. When they had kissed and Jordan had left, aborting anything that may have arisen that day. When Håvard told him that he loved him, and Jordan ran away... But there were all these conflicting signals. The reassuring words from Doc, Twitch and then... Jordan’s attitude when he woke up. Sleeping at his bedside. Massaging his hand. Gazing at him. Telling him he cared for him, and...

_"It hurts.”_

_"I know, baby. But you're going to be alright."_

Had Håvard imagined this? Was it the effects of a concussion? The words resounded with dizzying warmth; his heart didn't dare to rush, but couldn't completely stop drumming either. Håvard wanted to know the bottom line of this story, and... just see him again. Ask him how it was in Texas. How it went with his family. Ask him if he was better, and if he could stay in Rainbow despite what happened. If he...

The rusty door opened behind him, and Håvard moved away from the low wall on which he had been leaning.

_Jordan "Thermite" Trace appeared._

He was wearing military pants, his rangers, an unzipped black sweatshirt and an FBI T-shirt underneath. His beard was slightly shaved, clean and perfect, his hair had grown and surprisingly... they looked blacker, with fewer white locks. Jordan smiled at him and joined him on the edge, at the low wall.

" _Hej_ ," Håvard whispered with a faint smile.

"Hey. How are you feelin'?" Jordan immediately asked. "You sure you don't want to rest while we talk?"

"Nah, I hate this bed and this room. I wanted some fresh air."

Jordan smiled, and leaned on the wall next to him, his gray eyes staring at the emptiness in front of them. Håvard stole a few glances at his face, the timid winter sun reflecting in the silvery shine of his eyes, painting a warm light on his stubbled cheeks.

_God, he’s so beautiful._

“I can understand,” Jordan replied. “But the air is not _fresh._ It’s goddam _cold_.”

Håvard chuckled, trying not to shake nor grin too much because of his healing body.

“ _You_ just can’t stand the cold,” Håvard corrected. “Was it warmer in Texas?”

“It was. I mean, it was _normal._ It’s just this stupid place that’s cold. When I came back, rain poured on me almost on command.”

“And… how did it go in Texas? I heard you were going to see some… family?”

Jordan glanced at him, and seeing that Håvard seemed worried, he began to tell in broad outlines:

“Yeah. Went to see my brother-in-law and my sister’s kids. It was… not what I expected. But for the better. We talked a lot, went on my family’s graves, did lots of things with the kids. It was good. And I feel better.”

Håvard softly nodded his head, a smile appearing on the corner of his lips. Jordan then frowned and said:

“And I’m sorry, Håvard.”

Håvard looked up to meet his eyes, and tilted his head sideways.

“What for?”

“For you know… The way I acted. The things I did. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Håvard breathed in and shrugged:

“You weren’t well. It’s ok.”

“No, it’s not ok,” Jordan refused, reaching for Håvard’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hurting you can never be ok.”

“You say that as if you had stabbed me or something,” Håvard scoffed. “It takes more than that to hurt me, sweetie pie.”

Jordan rolled his eyes and stepped closer, till he could feel Håvard’s breath on his skin.

“Remember when you told me I could see right through your bullshit?” Jordan asked.

“Hm… yeah?”

“I still can.”

Håvard frowned at him, and held his gaze. But after long seconds of trying to keep eye contact, he gave in, smiling weakly.

“Right. Forgot you had that superpower.”

Jordan’s hand moved from Håvard’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, which he softly started rubbing, in a very gentle gesture – aware of Håvard’s state of pain despite the medication. And Håvard closed his eyes, letting his shoulders relax.

“And what about your ears?” he asked, glancing at Jordan’s hearing aids. “You told me you had lost part of your hearing.”

“How about enough talking about me?” Jordan replied.

“Are you trying to dodge my questions like you used to?”

Jordan couldn’t repress a smile at that.

“No, as you said, I _used_ to. It’s just, we could talk about me later. Right now, I’m worried about you. You’ve gone through… a lot. I wanna know how you feel?”

Håvard shrugged, sighing.

“You don’t have to tell me right now, if you don’t want to,” Jordan added.

“Nah, it’s just. I don’t know. I feel like I’m still in there, in that place. I can still hear their cries, their screams… I thought they had killed Gilles at some point. He wasn’t coming back and I… “

Håvard’s eyes started to fill with tears and Jordan immediately wrapped an arm around him to keep him close. To support him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I was so scared. Petrified even. I think that’s why they went easy on me the last days, they thought I was broken and had gone mute. They wanted to keep me as a leverage against the others, they threatened to kill me and… I was just so useless.”

Jordan hugged him as best as he could, trying to avoid Håvard’s broken ribs. And Håvard let his head rest in Jordan’s silky hair.

“I was so useless,” he repeated.

“No, you did good. You held on. You didn’t say anything.”

“But they hurt the others more, because of me.”

Jordan detached himself, to cup Håvard’s bruised cheek in his hand.

“Listen to me, Håvard. Those guys were terrorists. Pure evil. _They_ hurt them. Not you. It wasn’t your fault, it was those bastards’. But you, you did great; perfect even. With your silence, you protected everyone. You protected _us._ ”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“I know. I know it doesn’t,” Jordan murmured, stroking Håvard's bruised cheekbone with his thumb. “Believe me, I know. But if there’s something that I learnt lately, it’s that you mustn’t alter reality and twist it into thinking you’re guilty for what happened.”

Håvard grabbed a tissue from his pocket and cautiously cleaned his broken nose that had started dripping with lachrymal liquid. He then squeezed the used tissue into a ball and put it back in his pocket.

Jordan worriedly looked for his blue-eyed gaze:

“Hey, look at me,” he asked. “Please, look at me, pretty.”

Håvard’s eyes met his, and Jordan smiled softly.

“Do you trust me?” Jordan asked.

“Sure,” Håvard replied without hesitation.

“Then trust me with this: I know it doesn’t feel like it, but _it wasn’t your fault_. And _you did good_.”

Håvard wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve, and softly murmured:

“Thanks.”

“You want me to walk you back to your room, to rest?”

“N-Not now. There’s… something else.”

Jordan kept stroking Håvard’s dried cheek with his thumb, and looked at him worriedly.

“Sure, tell me?”

“I know you… When we… When we were in my dorm, last month. I told you things. We shared… a thing. But I never really knew why. Why you left. Is it because I wasn’t… ?”

Jordan’s face suddenly softened, his heart tightening with worry and guilt at the sight of Håvard’s naked emotions.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jordan reassured him. “I… I enjoyed it. The _kiss_. I enjoyed kissing you. But I freaked out. I freaked out because I thought that being in love would get me out of my mourning, and that getting out of my mourning would erase the connection I had to my mother and sister. And I was so scared that… something could happen to you and I would… mourn again. I didn’t know what I would do if something… How ironic, huh? When you guys got ambushed only a few weeks later.”

 _He enjoyed kissing you,_ Håvard repeated mentally for himself. _He was afraid of being in love. Does this mean he was falling for you, or that he didn’t want to remotely feel something for you?_

“I’m sorry. Sorry you suffered,” Håvard murmured.

“I’m feeling better, now. I’m ready to move on.”

Håvard wrapped his arms around him, his body sore, yet yearning for a hug. For his warmth.

“And… does it change anything?” Håvard cautiously asked. “Between us?”

“No. It doesn’t,” Jordan replied.

Håvard’s heart fell in his chest, like a severed pendulum. He had his answer: Jordan still didn’t want him. That’s where the road was ending. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face hidden in Jordan’s black hair, trying to choke back his tears. And his nose was aching now. And so was his heart. He shouldn’t be hugging him right now, it was just too painful, but at the same time he couldn’t let go – he just loved him so much… But wasn’t loved back.

He looked skywards, not to pray God, but to refrain more tears from leaving his eyes and dripping on Jordan’s black hair.

“I love you _just as much_ , if not even more,” Jordan murmured, stroking Håvard’s back.

_Wait…_

_What?_

“ _H-Hva?_ ” Håvard blurted, his English filter dropping with the emotion peak.

Jordan slowly parted away to look at him, a grin illuminating his face.

“I love you, Håvard.”

“B-But you said… ?”

Jordan cupped his cheeks.

“I know what I said. And the only thing that changed is my idiotic attitude. Not what I feel for you.”

“What? S-So, you… ?”

Jordan frowned:

“You… love me too, right?” he suddenly asked. “Cause that’d be embarrassing as hell.”

Håvard gaped, rolling his eyes:

“How can you… This is… _Helvete_ , how can you be so oblivious? Of course I love you. I’m… you’re… Jordan, you’re the most beautiful and the sweetest person I’ve ever met, you have no idea _how much_ I love you. When I look at you, my heart goes on a rampage, and when you look back at me, it’s like it’s leaving my chest to meet yours, and… I don’t know what to say. You’re turning my brain to mash potatoes, and fy faen! Jeg elsker deg _så mye_ , at jeg kunne-”

Jordan brought his lips to his, muffling his Norwegian babbling, and Håvard froze. Jordan’s lips started moving against his – warm and wet, just as soft and peachy as he remembered. He closed his eyes and totally let himself drown in euphoria, his bandaged hands grazing Jordan’s face and shaking both with the emotion, and the fear of breaking the moment again. He could smell Jordan’s cologne, the warmth from his skin, from his breath brushing against his face. He almost cried at the feeling.

Jordan only interrupted the kiss to murmur:

“Just so you know. I understood what you said. And I love you too.”

Håvard kept his eyes closed, and softly pressed his forehead against Jordan’s.

“... You do?” he whispered.

“Of course, baby,” Jordan replied, not realizing sooner how insecure Håvard could be. "I'm sorry I made you even doubt it.”

Håvard didn’t reply anything, his forehead still pressed against Jordan’s. A strange and euphoric silence hovering between them. He softly squeezed Jordan’s shoulders beneath his fingers, as if to make sure he was real. That _this_ was really happening.

“... I shouldn’t call you baby?” Jordan worriedly asked.

“You can,” Håvard said with a chuckle. “You definitely can.”

“Then why do you seem... sad?”

“I’m not sad. I’m happy. This is the best day of my life.”

Jordan took him by the shoulders to look him in the eye:

“Then where’s my favorite cheeky smile?”

Håvard couldn’t repress a grin, and Jordan kissed his lips again, pressing his body to his. Håvard let himself go, kissing him passionately in return. He let his hands drop from Jordan's shoulders until he could stroke his collarbones, then his pecs under his T-shirt, feeling his heart beating under his palm.

“Your heart,” Håvard murmured against Jordan’s lips. “It’s beating so fast.”

“Hm hm,” confirmed Jordan.

“It’s like boom boom, boom boom, boom boom... ”

“Yup. Sounds like me exploding stuff,” Jordan joked.

“Hm. You definitely breached through me, then,” Håvard replied with a smirk.

“As someone would say... _There is no wall too thick._ ”

Håvard giggled, pressing a kiss to Jordan’s nose.

But suddenly... Jordan was several centimeters lower. As if he had just come down a step.

_And Håvard understood._

“Sweetie pie, don’t tell me you’ve been standing on tiptoes to kiss me this whole time?”

“No.”

“You have!”

“You’re tall, ok?!”

Håvard burst out laughing as he tightened his arms around him, hugging him closely.

“My smoll gorgeous and lovable sweetie pie.”

“My tall charming and adorable drama king.”

Håvard pressed a generous kiss in his dark hair, resting his head against his.

“I love you,” he murmured. “So much.”

Jordan let himself rest against Håvard’s warm body, as he felt his own heart beating with a dizzying rhythm, his body and mind relaxing.  
Making way for happiness to finally settle in.

“I love you too, Håvard.”

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :’)
> 
> This is it. I hope you guys enjoyed the whole story. I know it’s a bit cliché to end on an “I love you”, but at the same time… isn’t it the most beautiful and magical juxtaposition of three everyday words? 
> 
> Thank you so much for following this journey, it means a lot to me <3 I also kind of hope that some of this fic’s phrases, regarding guilt, mourning, confidence, will help you. I inspired a lot from my friends’ and my own journey through those hardships and the things that helped me, or helped me helped them, get through it :)
> 
> And though this is the end of this fic, this is clearly not the end of Ace/Thermite’s content for me haha This fic was just my rationalized thesis on why/how they can be a healthy and cute ship. And I hope you liked it. Lemme know <3
> 
> Once again thank you so much for all your comments and interest in this fic, it meant so much for me and helped me publish it to the end. I’ve had rough days, like many people out there, but your interest and sweet words for this fic kept boosting me and my confidence so much <3
> 
> I wish you all a very good day, week, month, year and life,  
> Ellie.


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